


Three Miles, Seventeen Minutes By Train

by fake_years



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe, First Time, M/M, Secret Relationship, Teacher Tony Stark, Teacher-Student Relationship, Unhealthy Relationships, all this is wrong and none of it is right
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-03-20
Packaged: 2021-03-12 18:06:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 6
Words: 23,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22723849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fake_years/pseuds/fake_years
Summary: Peter finds his physics teacher on Grindr.
Relationships: Peter Parker/Tony Stark
Comments: 158
Kudos: 391





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> *In case it needed to be said, I do not condone adult-minor relationships in real life.

Peter was going to be very, very late to history.

“I just wanted to tell you that I got your note.” Valerie Huddlestun had him cornered at the end of the hallway right before the last bell.

“Hey! Did you, um, like it?” Peter shifted awkwardly in place. They were standing right outside the girl’s restroom. A toilet flushed over the din of students as Peter mumbled several apologies who looked back at him through the doorless entrance.

“The thing is...I’m not ready to date right now. I know it sounds dumb, but there was a guy over the break.”

“No, no. Don’t worry about it. I mean, it’s better like this. Seriously.” Peter hoped his smile appeared genuine. He reached to pat her on the arm before thinking better of it. The final warning bell rang, startling them both. She was in the middle of apologizing again when a voice interrupted her.

“Let’s clear the halls, everybody!”

His chemistry teacher shouted from her doorway. Peter noticed her covering her mouth to cover a laugh as their physics teacher - Mr. Stark - threw a wadded up ball of paper over the student’s heads to lodge itself on top of a row of lockers.

“Peter?”

“Huh?”

“We can still be friends, right?”

“Of course,” Peter replied as if he’d never looked away.

Peter couldn’t shake the conversation as he squeezed between the wall and a particularly massive football player with two minutes before the bell. They could definitely still talk in AP calculus or the occasional run-in, Peter reassured himself. It had been Ned’s idea to ask her out in the first place. Ned had been talking about double dates ever since Dora - an impossibly sweet trumpet player in band - had said yes to seeing Jurassic World together last Saturday. Peter wished he could share Ned’s enthusiasm over the idea of a Dance Dance Revolution double date.

Peter stayed stuck on dating for the rest of the day. He wondered if he was getting left behind, if everyone but him had experience, if Ned would feel sorry for him after he told him. Valerie had always been nice to both of them. She never once laughed at ‘Penis Parker’ (she’d even told Flash off once), and she always seemed happy to be paired together in calculus. She probably would have loved DDR.

That night Peter was cleaning up dinner while May brushed her teeth down the hall. He retreated to his room where he attempted to get comfortable against his pillows after slouching over a desk for two hours. He unlocked his phone out of habit. But instead of opening a text or pulling up Youtube, Peter found himself browsing the app store. He squinted at the overbright screen’s search function. First he typed “dating” which resulted in several apps he’d never even heard of. There was always Tinder. All of them restricted anyone under 18-years-old. Peter chewed his lip, staring at the icon. He paused at the install option before thumbing past until Grindr’s masked logo appeared.

Peter pressed the download option before he could talk himself out of it. He watched his progress bar load without blinking until the dark grey background filled his screen.

“You got this,” Peter whispered, shuffling under the comforter. He began filling out the required fields. Username: Electric0Sheep. His profile picture was a cartoon of Nikolas Tesla reading “Watt is love? Baby don’t hertz me.”

Peter decided to list his age as 20. He definitely didn’t have a fake ID for bars. The profile then gave him options for “position.” Peter’s body broke out in a sweat at the mere suggestion. He felt as if he were watching himself out of body for one excruciating moment. As if he was watching another version of Peter telling tons of strangers something he could hardly admit to himself.

In the end, Peter went with “bottom” for fear of taking the lead. He was a 17-year-old virgin aftrall. He could change it later. Just because his profile said so, didn’t mean that it was binding. He wouldn’t have to bottom for anyone if he didn’t want to. Still the idea had him semi-hard, imagining if he were to completely subvert what he’d been taught by having a man take control. A thrill coursed through his body tempered by apprehension.

He was frowning at his newly published account when a message pushed through. TNT39 had started a conversation. Peter took a moment to calm down before looking any further. The username linked to a 48-year-old guy’s profile who only had a photo of some classic car. Peter figured he must have skipped over the age range setting. He wavered between deleting the chat and opening it. It’s not like he’d ever actually date a guy that old. But it couldn’t hurt just to talk, right? If nothing else, he could get some practice. Peter’s curiosity won out as he clicked read:

TNT39: “Nice Tesla pun”

Peter wrote a reply after several long minutes of racking his brain for any kind of intelligent response. He forced his tensed muscles to relax. This guy couldn’t see him. He had no idea who Peter was. No big deal. Piece of cake.

Electric0Sheep: “Thanks”

TNT39: “Most people can’t tell the facts from fiction about him. Pop quiz.”

Electric0Sheep: “ok”

TNT39: “True or false: Tesla invented x-ray tech”

Electric0Sheep: “false. easy”

TNT39: “Induction coil?”

Electric0Sheep: “false. just the tesla coil. separate thing.”

TNT39: “Alternating currents?”

Electric0Sheep: “false!”

TNT39: “First drone.”

Electric0Sheep: “false?”

TNT39: “Nope. True. Toy boat…Technically a remote controlled vessel.”

Electric0Sheep: “is this what you usually do on grindr? test guys about old scientists?”

“Exclusively.”

Neither typed for several seconds. Then the screen showed he was typing. Peter’s body sagged with relief when the message finally showed up.

TNT39: “So says you’re 20. Not-even-legal-to-drink isn’t usually my type... but you seem interesting.”

Electric0Sheep: “thanks?”

TNT39: “You’re welcome. You got a pic besides that science meme? Guys your age usually have albums worth of chest pics on here.”

Electric0Sheep: “i’m not out yet. I havent even been w/ a guy. you first?”

TNT39: “Fair enough.”

Peter nearly dropped his phone when a sexy shirtless torso appeared. Earlier, Peter hadn’t given much thought to who might be on the other end of the chat. Maybe he had imagined TNT39 as that awkward but friendly, ponytailed owner of May’s favorite record shop who favored Haiwan shirts. Now, Peter couldn’t think of any way to describe the man other than hot. Peter could tell the guy worked out just by looking at his well-defined arms. He could see his body hair, the shape of his furniture in the background. The man’s surprisingly slim waist tapered to where his jeans were unbuttoned to show off a bulge covered in blue cotton briefs.

Peter’s mind went blank, his mouth slightly open. There was a very real, very attractive man waiting for Peter’s reply 3 miles away, less than two thousand feet from his apartment.

Peter had no idea what he was supposed to do next. He put the phone down on his chest and looked up at the ceiling. He asked himself if he really wanted this. Would he really be able to talk to other guys? The only people to ever openly flirt with him had been a couple girls he’d known from school. Even though all they’d done was laugh at his jokes or pay him a little extra attention in class. He wouldn’t even have noticed if Ned hadn’t said something. It was nothing like this. All of that was so tame, none of it explicitly sexual. How was Peter supposed to compliment him? What did guys say to each other?

“you look handsome.”

Peter hit send and rolled over. He lay face down berating himself for his word choice. Only elderly relatives said handsome. To literal children when they managed to brush their hair for Thanksgiving dinner. The train of thought was interrupted when his phone vibrated with a new message.

“Your turn.”

Peter hurried to turn on his bedside lamp. Except when he tested the camera, everything looked grainy in the too-small pool of light. He stumbled upright, trying to stand on top of his uneven mattress and reach the cord for his fan’s light. In Peter’s rush, the string slipped from his fingers twice. Once he had the room fully illuminated Peter held up his phone and switched the camera on himself. He froze at every creak of a floorboard, imagining May outside his door.

Peter finally settled on one of the least shadowy of his photos. The image was dim. He thought his skin looked too yellow. But the photo was pointed low enough that TNT39 would be able to see the shape of Peter’s erection, and where he had pulled the waistband down to show the flushed head of his penis.

An agonizing three minutes later, the man replied.

TNT39: “That’s so fucking sexy. Profile says no strings attached?”

Electric0Sheep: “Yeah. figuring stuff out.”

TNT39: “What turns you on?”

Electric0Sheep: “Id like a guy to show me what to do? If that’s ok.”

TNT39: “That’s very ok. Especially would love to take care of a pretty thing like you. Don’t be embarrassed by what you want.”

Electric0Sheep: “want to try being submissive. I almost think id like it to hurt.”

TNT39: “Meet up in person?”

Electric0Sheep: “i can’t til this weekend. would the nearest mall be ok?”

TNT39: “Sure. Public place. Safety first. How about Saturday at 2pm…?”

Electric0Sheep: “probably yes! i’ll let you know!”

TNT39: “Perfect. Sleep tight.”

Peter was wide awake and hard in his boxers.

By 11 a.m. on Friday, Peter felt close to passing out from either stress or excitement. The entire morning he had been dying to check Grindr. He’d never done anything like this. He wanted so badly to spill the whole story to Ned. But he couldn’t. Not now. The only real chance Peter had left was to tell him was during lunch block, but Peter had sworn to himself that he would not come out in the middle of the cafeteria over cartons of chocolate milk and nachos. 

The last obstacle between Peter and lunch break was physics. Peter loved the class even though the teacher intimidated him. No matter how good his grades were, Peter felt like a moron whenever he tried to talk to Mr. Stark. Mr. Stark was the single most smartest person Peter had ever met. The fact that he was so good looking made things infinitely worse. His teacher rattled off numbers and equations without a second thought, hand scribbling symbols onto the board as fast as the words left his mouth. Most could hardly keep up. No matter how hard Peter tried to impress him, he stumbled on the delivery. In spite of himself, Peter lingering around Mr. Stark’s desk. He would try to cite problem two chapters ahead just to prove he’d seen it. Other days Peter caught himself complimenting Mr. Stark’s lesson like some starstruck groupie. At best, Mr. Stark would give him some lukewarm acknowledgement. If Peter were less lucky, Mr. Stark shooed him away to his next class.

Anxious over being caught, Peter glanced down at his phone where he had propped it inside his backpack. Mr. Stark currently had his back to the class writing out an equation for electromagnetic waves. Peter watched the board while entering the code to unlock his screen. He opened the chat just in time for Mr. Stark to turn around. His teacher leaned against his desk, tie loosened around his neck and sleeves pushed up to his elbows. The image was firmly in Peter’s his head when he started typing to TNT39. 

“i’m excited to meet you in person.” 

Finishing the text, the immediately tossed the phone to the bottom of the bag. He could feel himself blushing, which only got worse the more he focused on the self-conscious heat creeping up his neck. Ned did a double take.

“Dude, are you ok?” Before Peter could respond, Mr. Stark turned to the two of them.

“Parker. Eyes up here.” He pointed with his dry erase marker. “Any particularly interesting ‘Insta’ stories you want to share with the class?” Mr. Stark turned to fully face him and stepped closer. A couple of Peter’s classmates laughed in the background. Peter felt himself shriveling under Mr. Stark’s stare.

“I-I’m. I’m sorry, sir. It’s nothing.” 

“Thoroughly inconspicuous,” Mr. Stark smirked. He nodded at Ned. “Keep an eye on him, Leeds.” 

***

Peter stood by the kitchen sink explaining to May that he needed a ride. His cereal bowl rested in his hand, spoon balanced in a puddle of milk and disintegrating Apple Jacks. Peter told May that he was supposed to meet Valerie at the mall.

“It’s not a date or anything,” Peter insisted-- May’s smile only widened. “I’m serious, May!”

“When do you need to be dropped off for your not-date?” She raised an eyebrow over her coffee mug. 

“She said 2 o’clock. I promise, we’re just hanging out. I’m not gonna let anything happen.” 

“It’s okay, sweetie,” she smiled. “I trust you. When am I picking you back up?”

“She, um, she didn’t say.” He should know this, but he has no idea. “Is 4 o’clock okay? Can I text you if it’s later?”

“How about 3:45 and we’ll call it a day, mister. I need to run errands anyways.” May replied. Peter thanked her before rushing to get in the shower. He only had four hours before his first ever date… at least his first with a much older guy who he’d never seen or met in person. Not for the first time, Peter wondered what he was doing. He then reminded himself that they’d be in public and all he had to do was call May if he needed an out.

The ride to the mall was quiet, passing through New Jersey’s least glamorous freeways and freestanding gas station-slash-Dunkin’ Donuts. Peter felt simultaneously like he was gonna be sick and like Christmas had come early. He drummed his fingers on his thigh. His hand paused to reach up and smooth over the imaginary cowlick at the crown of his head. He knew May was staring at him out of the corner of her eye, but she mercifully spared him from teasing.

She turned onto the side road for the mall. Peter reminded her once again that they had to be at the north-side entrance. She stopped for a group of teenagers walking between parking spaces. Peter slouched down in the passenger seat. None of them looked familiar, but he didn’t want to chance it. 

“You’re ridiculous sometimes, you know that?” May smiled fondly. She rotated the wheel with her hands nearly covered by her oversized sweater and approached the curbside. They reached a full stop outside the Cheesecake Factory signage. Peter had already started unbuckling his seatbelt.

“Thanks so much, May.”

“Have fun. I love you!”

“Love you too.” Peter said at a much lower volume. He had messaged TNT39 again yesterday to make sure they’d recognize each other. The man had said he’d be wearing green plaid over a plain tee. As for Peter, he’d chosen his favorite (only) semi-dressy sweater and tight corduroys. 

He rolled his shoulders before walking towards the mall doors. He pulled his own sleeves down when the wind blew. It was cold enough to warrant a coat, except Peter had left it because his big winter jacket made him look juvenile. Families and kids weaved past. Once inside, the heated, stuffy air surrounded Peter immediately. He took a moment by a water fountain and pulled out his phone. It read 1:55. Peter tried to focus on the song playing over the mall stereo to distract from the slight nausea. He didn’t even want to look up. He considered leaving or hiding in the Nordstrom’s on the opposite side of the building. 

But Peter wouldn’t let himself back out now. He walked further inside, while trying to look around without seeming suspicious. When he turned the corner, Peter saw him. On a bench near Lenscrafters sat his physics teacher in a trendy-casual green flannel. Peter’s stomach fell out. Straight to the floor, into the center of the Earth. 

“Mr. Stark?”

For a moment naked fear slackened his features. “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”

“I’m- You’re TNT39?”

“You’re my student.” Mr. Stark announced to no one in particular. “You were my student the whole time. Quick question, is Chris Hansen about to pop out?

“Who is- ” Peter tried before Mr. Stark’s grabbed his shoulder and steered them towards a fake potted plant in the corner, away from the shop doorways. 

“Not the time.”

Peter started to panic. He’d done something wrong. He’d lied about his age and tried to secretly meet guys, and his teacher had just caught him. Never in a million years would he try and hook-up with a teacher. It was an honest mistake. As no one ever, ever found out.

“Please don’t tell my aunt,” Peter begged. “Please, sir. I know I shouldn’t have lied about my age, I just - I didn’t think any teachers were into that? Oh my god, am I gonna be expelled?”

“Hey,” Mr. Stark cut in. “No one’s getting expelled. You’re not in trouble. Does your aunt know you’re here? Is someone with you?”

“She dropped me off,” Peter stammered before adding, “I told her I was hanging out with a girl.”

“Dropped you off? Mr. Stark looked at him aghast. “Jesus Christ, how old are you?” 

“I’m like, 17. Almost 18?”

“I hate to break it to you but ‘Almost 18’ isn’t an age. You’re 17-years-old. Great. Spectacular. First things first if - anyone asks - this whole meeting was a bad coincidence. Second, vacate the shadowy corner. Pronto. Vamonos.”

Mr. Stark had already started walking. Peter rushed to catch up as he dodged couples and strollers. He kept his eyes trained on Mr. Stark’s flannel-covered back. His mind struggled to process the reality of their situation at the same time. Peter had been so naive to think he could pull this off. He’d been so stupid. Just this morning he had imagined himself starting his adult love-life, and here he was feeling like a child caught breaking the rules in front of his teacher. Mr. Stark would probably have him call May. He’d send him home as soon as possible for lying about his age. The whole thing was Parker Luck multiplied tenfold. 

They found the food court at the center, on the second floor situated under a large, dingy skylight. The smell of teriyaki and fry oil overpowered Peter’s nose. Each food counter had their name in neon. Mr. Stark slowed down for Peter to catch up. It wasn’t as crowded as Peter had seen it on other weekends, possibly due to the poor weather. They had their pick of tables. Mr. Stark chose a four seater near the center. Mr. Stark drummed his fingers against the table top.

“You want a smoothie? I’ll get you a smoothie.” 

Peter waited for him to leave before frantically texting May that he needed to be picked up early. He held his breath until he saw the “read” notification underneath. Peter then put his phone away and tried to remember where to put his hands. Mr. Stark returned holding a large Strawberry-Kiwi Breeze. 

“Thank you.” Peter sipped from the red straw. “It’s so weird seeing you out of school.”

“Bad weird?”

“No.”

“That friend of yours, I assume you’re not live-tweeting this to him? Is that what the kids do now?” Mr. Stark’s attempt at levity fell flat. He took Peter’s affronted expression in response as a ‘no’. He continued. 

“Let me level with you. This was a massive mistake, a misunderstanding on my part, both our parts. If I’d known, none of this would have happened. God as my witness, I do not have any interest whatsoever in children. Which is legally what you are. Or any of my students - current or former. Which you also very much are.”

Peter found he’d lost interest in the smoothie. He no longer had any kind of appetite. If the embarrassment hadn’t destroyed him earlier, the shame currently choking him would finish the job. 

“I’m so sorry, sir. I messed up. I know I did.”

“Likewise,” he quipped. “How’s the smoothie? You’re looking sort of green in the gills.”

“It’s fine.”

“As loath as I am to ruin this moment we’re having here but I’m finding myself distracted by the looming threat of my incarceration. I want to make a deal. What do you say we never speak of this again? Hell, I’ll even look the other way if you want to miss the next homework assignment to sweeten the pot. Sound fair?”

“Yeah? I mean, yes.” 

“Have you always been this obedient? Scratch that. I’m removing myself from this situation.” 

He looked relieved when Peter’s phone cut him off. It vibrated sharply against the table’s surface. 

“It’s my aunt,” Peter glanced up at Mr. Stark as if for permission to take the call. His teacher motioned for him to go ahead. Peter got up to walk away from the table, out of earshot. He kept his voice even as he agreed to meet at the same entrance. Peter mumbled ‘I love you too’ in reply before hanging up.

“Your ride here?”

“Yeah.” 

“It’s been fun. Let’s pretend it never happened.”

“See you in class.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Change in chapter numbers! I've combined chapters one and two. The total chapter count went down only because I'm combining. Still the same amount of content.

The next few days were perfectly ordinary. So ordinary that it felt absurd after what had happened. May made cheesy chicken casserole. Peter’s neighbor stopped him on the sidewalk to ask him about his classes and SAT prep. Peter answered while trying not to think about Mr. Stark calling his picture sexy. Peter deleted Grindr but not without reading Mr. Stark’s messages one more time. 

A bus driver complained that two men in suits were trying to get themselves killed walking across the road. Peter assumed the mall was both the first and the last time he’d see how good Mr. Stark looked in casual clothing. He couldn’t shake the strange melancholy feeling it left in his gut. Why would that make him feel bad? It’s not like he wanted something to actually happen. It was just a fantasy. He didn’t want to break any more laws or risk someone going jail or generally ruining everyone’s lives. May would never forgive him. 

Monday was equally ordinary. Everyone continued as if nothing had ever happened. Peter just had to keep it together, stay cool. He didn’t even know what he was so afraid of. But the idea of seeing Mr. Stark face-to-face made his stomach drop as if he’d taken a look down the sheer face of a 100-story building. In the middle of Manhattan. With no guard rail. 

“Dude, are you okay?” Ned was looking at him with concern. Peter didn’t even remember walking to the physics classroom. 

“I’m fine. Everything’s fine. Why? Is there something on my face?”

“You’re zoning out. I didn’t want to say anything, bro, but you’ve been acting weird all day.”

Peter simply groaned and turned to lean his head against the cinder block-covered wall. If Ned noticed something was wrong, then Mr. Stark definitely would. This was going to be a disaster. What could he even say? Oh yeah, I tried to use Grindr to hook-up with guys because I might be into that but then the guy I was sexting turned out to be my teacher? Maybe he could fake sick. Except for the fact that he was a terrible liar and May would see right through him. He could do this. All he had to do was keep his head down and never make eye contact with or speak to Mr. Stark ever again.Totally doable. 

Class started, but Peter knew he wouldn’t be able to focus. He had given up on that even before he and Ned took their seats. Peter stared down at his binder without looking at the board, nervously scribbling in the margins and praying Mr. Stark didn’t try to speak to him. He didn’t trust himself to remember how to behave like a human, let alone respond intelligently. They were currently doing work in pairs. Peter had only caught a glimpse of his teacher so far. Peter was contemplating the pros and cons of finding a way to purposefully get sick when he heard Ned ask a question.

“Hey, Mr. Stark. Does this look right?”

Peter watched him walk over out of the corner of his eye as the emergency siren went off in his head. He was in the aisle seat, nearest to Mr. Stark. Peter could almost smell his cologne from where he was standing. On cue, Peter's thoughts turned to the messages Mr. Stark had unwittingly sent on Grindr.

_**That’s so fucking sexy. What turns you on? Would love to take care of a pretty thing like you. Love to take care of a pretty thing like you.** _

“Let’s see what you’ve got.” 

Peter saw Mr. Stark raise a hand as if to clap him on the shoulder then pause and hover mid-air. Peter braced for the brief contact, anticipating the weight of Mr. Stark’s hand against his tee shirt. Instead, Mr. Stark played it off and waved his hand to gesture at the worksheet in front of them. If Peter didn’t know any better, he might think Mr. Stark was on edge.

“You know what? On second thought, I’m sure you’re doing an excellent job. You and Mr. Parker, here, are right on track. Keep up the good work.” 

“Yes, sir.”

“Okay seriously, what’s with everybody today?” Ned said once Mr. Stark had walked away. “Do you and Stark have some kind of beef that I missed?”

“No! There’s nothing going on. Can we just finish this problem?”

Their pattern of awkward avoidances continued that way for the next two weeks. Until the following Friday, when Mr. Stark finally called him over. The electronic chime had signaled their lunch period and everyone was filing out of the room, but Mr. Stark asked him to stay back. Ned shot Peter a look of concern.

“But, I have -” Peter started to protest as a reflex. He had no idea what his excuse was, but it was worth a try. It was the first time they had spoken directly to each other since the mall.

“Huh, that’s funny,” Mr. Stark furrowed his brow in faux confusion. “I don’t remember asking.”

Peter muttered an apology to Ned and returned to his desk. Every possibility was running through Peter’s head all at once - school or otherwise - for why this was happening. Mr. Stark had his back turned to erase equations scribbled in blue dry erase marker. Mr. Stark waited until the last students had left the room before he approached Peter. He walked up to Peter with casual body language that belied the tension that Peter knew he felt too.

“Sorry to pull the teacher card back there.” Mr. Stark said. “You doing alright?”

“I’m fine.” He lied. Whatever Mr. Stark saw must have been pretty pathetic because his face softened.

“Look, kid, I don’t know how to handle this either.” Mr. Stark confessed. “But since we’re stuck like this until the end of the year, I thought I’d propose a truce. How ‘bout it?”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m saying we try this communication thing,” He said before adding, “Within reason.”

“Do you wanna talk about…what happened?”

“No, no. I'm acknowledging that it happened. And I mean in the vaguest possible terms. Still, acknowledging it seems better than pretending.” 

“Thanks. It does feel a little weird now.” Peter thought to himself that ‘a little’ didn’t begin to cover it. He had basically seen his teacher in his underwear. He hadn’t even seen Ned or May less than fully dressed - not including May’s bathrobes.

“The last thing I want is to have this mess with your school work. First off, because a poor academic performance is counterproductive to my job. Not to mention you’re kind of brilliant.”

“You think I’m good?” He asked momentarily stunned. 

“More than just good.” Mr. Stark smiled for the first time. He then motioned to several thick stacks of test-prep packets in need of stapling. “While you’re here, want to help me finish these? I could use the extra man power.”

On one hand, Peter didn’t want to miss lunch. On the other hand, he didn’t feel ready to leave just yet. Peter caught himself staring. He nodded in agreement.

Instead of handing over the papers, Mr. Stark took a seat next to Peter, who made a conscious effort to focus. Except Peter couldn’t ignore the weight and heat of Mr. Stark so close. As Peter’s teacher, Mr. Stark occupied a space separate from him with students relegated to the audience. Even at the mall there had been the length of a (albeit small) table between them. Now their shoulders almost touched. If Peter leaned over, he could feel Mr. Stark’s arm against his own through the soft cotton of his shirt. If Peter turned to his right, he could probably even make out the short gray hairs in Mr. Stark’s facial hair.

“So,” Mr. Stark-in-the-flesh interrupted his daydreaming. “How are classes going?”

“They’re okay,” Peter said without looking directly. He tapped the papers against the desktop again, even though they were already straight. “I’m not sure how I’m doing in Ms. Collins’ class though. I don’t know if she likes me.”

“I’m willing to bet you’ve got nothing to worry about. But if Collins does give you a hard time, let me know. She owes me for last semester.”

“Thanks.”

They continued working until Mr. Stark placed his hand on Peter’s arm. Peter froze. “By the way, I can hear your stomach growling from here.”

“I could eat and stack papers at the same time?”

His hand slid off of Peter’s arm as he walked over to his desk. Peter stood as well to get his lunch from his backpack. Once he had the brown bag in hand, he stopped, unable to decide where to sit. 

The classroom had lab stations lined up in three rows of six. Mr. Stark kept his room less colorful than some teachers; nothing hanging from the ceiling, no die cut letters or symbols, no posters or globes. His only decoration consisted of a cluster of yellow post-its where students had written “things that don’t suck” to serve as “motivation,” according to their teacher. These ranged from ‘pizza’ to ‘not being dead.’ 

Peter chose the center, closest to Mr. Stark who now had his legs propped up. His teacher had started to say something about college when Peter interrupted. From the new angle, Peter spotted what looked like a card with a cartoon of a person hiking up a grassy hill.

“Is it your birthday?” Peter asked around a hunk of bread.

Mr. Stark looked from Peter to the things covering his desk. He slapped his hand over the card, slid it towards his drawer. “No idea what you’re talking about,” he said.

“Well, happy birthday. If it was your birthday. I know a lot of adults hate birthdays, but I think it’s an awesome excuse to do whatever you want.”

“Whatever I want, huh?” Mr. Stark smiled ruefully down at the desktop, rapping his knuckles against the wood. Peter watched Mr. Stark’s expression morphed to something pained. “Drown my sorrows in cake and ice cream?”

“I guess?”

“I’ll keep it in mind. You about ready to finish those packets?”

Peter ate the rest of his food in a rush. He repeatedly wiped the corners of his mouth for crumbs or stray peanut butter. They spent the remaining 10 minutes working under the weight of a precarious unspoken agreement, wherein neither Peter nor Mr. Stark touched on the subject of their spending time together - of Peter currently skipping lunch for a half-assed excuse. Mr. Stark barely acknowledged Peter when he said goodbye. 

Ned started asking questions as soon as he saw him again. Peter said that he’d talked with Stark about college recommendation letters. Ned briefly paused, before congratulating Peter on scoring a recommendation. He then proceeded to fill in Peter on what he’d missed during lunch. Turned out three of the senior lacrosse players had been kicked out of the cafeteria for playing Wu-Tang Clan despite the other students’ cheers.

“I’ll never see Ms. Brown the same way again. Like Daenerys Targaryen roasting a guy alive to set an example, but calling their parents instead of death by fire.”

“Man. The one time I skip lunch.”

“Yeah, that’s on you. At least you got a sweet reference from Stark though.”

Peter swallowed down his guilt and mumbled in agreement. Who knew? Maybe he could get a college reference letter out of all this, if Mr. Stark felt sorry enough for him - a nerd who was too shy to date in real life or even approach guys. Plus, Mr. Stark had called him brilliant. It might have been out of pity or to be polite. Maybe he actually thought Peter was going places. Stranger things had happened, right?

***

At the last minute, Peter decided to hide in a bathroom stall.

He made up an excuse after decathlon about needing the library to study, going on about a neighbor doing construction in their building. Peter was currently sitting on a toilet with his pants on, the hard edge of the seat digging into his thighs. He sent a text to May with the same library excuse. If Peter was being honest with himself, he would probably go to the library after this out of a sense of obligation. He waited for the rest of the decathlon team to have gone before going back into the hallway.

The school was uniquely quiet at this time of day. Peter’s sneakers squeaked against the linoleum loud enough to make him wince. He worried an administrator would hear and discover him, except Peter wasn’t doing anything wrong to begin with. That’s what he told himself as he gripped his backpack straps with sweaty palms. Peter rounded the corner so that he was just outside Mr. Stark’s door, but the sound of someone else’s voice stopped him. It sounded like another teacher talking, Ms. Hill. Peter repressed the urge to hide as if someone could see his intentions. He pulled out his phone with nervous fingers and began to creep back down the hall. He loitered near the water fountain pretending to browse Twitter. He startled a few minutes later, when Ms. Hill turned the corner and caught his eye.

“A stray student, I see. Did you need some help?”

“I -uh, I wanted to ask Mr. Stark something,” Peter forced a smile. He held up the phone as if to illustrate his point (what his point was, he didn’t know) before realizing his screen was open to a thread of tweets chronicling the last episode of Project Runway. 

Ms Hill laughed. “Have a good evening, Mr. Parker. And stay out of trouble.” 

“You too! I mean, the good evening part!” 

Peter deflated once she had walked out of sight. He shook out his limbs before heading back to the physics classroom. Inside, Mr. Stark was hunched over some sort of spreadsheet with a red pen. Mr. Stark did a double take to fully realize Peter had just come in and was standing in front of the desk looking sheepish.

“Mr. Parker, what can I do for you?”

“Decathlon finished early?” Peter berated himself for ending it like a question. “And I wondered if I could hang out here for a little bit. I could do homework. My aunt doesn’t get home until 5 o’clock.”

“Be my guest.”

“Thanks.” Peter watched Mr. Stark out of the corner of his eye as he eased into a chair. He opened a text book to the sheet of paper that he’d tucked between the pages. Peter read the next problem, started then stopped to re-draw his matrix twice. His eraser squeaked against the table, pink bits of rubber-gum piling up. He tried to appear absorbed in homework while frantically trying to come up with a conversation starter. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Mr. Stark set down his pen. He began to walk towards Peter.

“Let me see that,” Mr. Stark already had his hand extended, making a grabbing motion. He didn’t wait for a reply before picking up the page Peter had been staring down at. Mr. Stark had only glanced at the page before the arm holding it dropped back down. “Quick question - when the hell did they start teaching linear algebra to high schoolers?”

“It’s not that big of a deal,” Peter deflected. “My other teacher said I should try it out. It’s just like AP classes or something except I do it online.”

“Of course this school doesn’t know how to handle an advanced student,” Mr. Stark scoffed before noticing Peter’s face. He dropped a hand on Peter’s shoulder. “Hey, kid, look at me. It’s nothing to be embarrassed about, I’m sorry for making a big deal. Okay?”

Peter nodded with lips pressed together. He couldn’t hide the blush if he tried. Said hand briefly squeezed before withdrawing. 

“If you ever need help on this stuff - actually how does a standing appointment sound? I used to sponsor the student council meetings, but I’m now mercifully free on Wednesdays. Sound good to you?”

“That would be amazing.” Peter paused around the knee-jerk hesitance at taking up Mr. Stark’s time. “That would be a huge help, sir.”

***

Peter was too impatient to see Mr. Stark. Instead of waiting, he volunteered to help put up signs for the canned food drive after school. Mr. Stark met him outside the classroom with a box of xeroxed posters and a roll of blue masking tape.

They had been at it for almost an hour. Peter made small talk as best he could. He glanced over to see Mr. Stark wet his thumb and pulled out another flyer. Peter smoothed the edges of the sign in front of him, focused on the brick wall.

Peter could admit that he thought about Mr. Stark more often than not. It made sense though. Mr. Stark was objectively one of the coolest people he had ever known — witty, confident, good looking, smartest person in the room. He was experienced in ways Peter dreamt of being. It was unrelated to the fact that Peter found him incredibly attractive, only more so after the Grindr incident.

Ned and his other friends may have noticed Peter’s possible teeny-tiny attraction to Mr. Stark, but no one had said anything to Peter directly. There’d only been vague jokes. May didn’t seem to think twice about his new tutoring schedule with Mr. Stark. It made sense. Nothing out of line happened. None of the teachers at Midtown had garnered those kinds of rumors. Not as long as Peter had been there.

On more than one occasion, tutoring with Mr. Stark sometimes stretched into the evening. So much so that May finally asked if Peter had signed up for another extracurricular club. Mr. Stark’s seemed to find reasons to keep him longer. Even incidental run-ins with Mr. Stark left Peter a little breathless. He worried it would read too obviously on his face, or in his words and actions. Obviously his hormones were to blame. Who knew if he even wanted to be with men outside his fantasies. It was only chemicals. Only that. Nothing else.

Peter began touching himself before school as a means of survival. He’d stagger into the shower first thing, eyes still weighed down by sleep. It would still be dark, barely 6 a.m., when he was maneuvering his boxers over his half-hard cock. He’d been having more dreams lately. More often than not he reverted back to things he’d implied in their Grindr chat. He would slicking up his cock with a conditioner before doing anything else. Peter huffed, frustrated for Mr. Stark’s hands to replace his own. To grab his hair, his thighs, his waist. Peter’s mouth hung open, panting and filling with water. It was mind blowingly good. He imagined what Mr. Stark would taste like in his mouth, taking him so deep that his nose pressed to pubic hair. The thoughts would send him whimpering over the edge.

“I swear to god, if I lose another planning period this year, I’m going to end up doing 60 hours a week. But Dr. Evans thinks you can fix any issue with an attitude adjustment. I’ll tell you, none of the faculty is buying it.”

They had gone around the back of the building to get some fresh air. Ahead was the track and field area beyond a chain link fence. Peter turned to look up at him; his tie was removed entirely in the residual afternoon heat, shirt partially unbuttoned as well. His open collar exposed his neck and the shine of sweat on his skin. Peter felt self-conscious. Except he wasn’t doing anything wrong. They weren’t doing anything wrong. Still, Peter kept looking for signs of anyone he knew, uncomfortable with the idea of being seen. 

Mr. Stark pulled out a pack of Pall Malls (“Only when I’m stressed. Don’t tell anyone”) But the one burning out between his fingers seemed forgotten. A breeze carried the smoke in the opposite direction.

“That sucks.” Peter said lamely. 

“Couldn’t have said it better myself.”

Peter didn’t dare to vent when Mr. Stark had an actual adult job and an income to worry about. What was Peter’s final in Spanish in comparison? His part time work unpacking boxes of potato chips at Delmar’s never kept him past dinner time. Here he was adding to Mr. Stark’s workload with after-school tutoring.

“You don’t have to keep tutoring me, seriously. It’s no problem. I really, really appreciate everything you’ve done for me, Mr. Stark.”

“What? No. It’s not something you need to worry about. I’m just bitching for the sake of bitching. It’s not entirely a hardship for me. You’ve got something special, kid.”

Peter exhaled in relief. Then Mr. Stark pushed himself off the wall so that he stood face to face with Peter. Their eyes met. Something switched on at that moment. Mr. Stark placed his hand next to Peter’s head. He faced Peter so that his body consumed Peter’s line of sight. His other hand rested near Peter’s hip. 

“Pete?” 

A voice Peter recognized as Ned called from around the corner.

Mr. Stark immediately stepped away and Peter jumped so he was no longer caged in by Mr. Stark’s body. He put distance between them, a foot or so in the direction, towards where he’d heard Ned’s voice. Mr. Stark slummed back against the bricks as if nothing had happened. He simply nodded in Ned’s direction when the boy turned to find them.

“Hey!” Peter hated the unsteadiness in his voice. He didn’t have anything to be nervous about. They weren’t doing anything wrong. Mr. Stark wouldn’t do that.

“Hey, dude. Heard you might still be over here. What’s up? Weren’t you helping May tonight?” His eyes darted between Peter and Mr. Stark. 

“Yeah...I mean, I am later.” Peter ignored the panicked feeling in his gut. He picked up the few posters that were left and stuck them under his arm. “Mr. Stark just had a lot of these to hang up. For the food drive.”

“No worries,” Ned finally stepped forward and offered his hand. They performed their routine (together, apart, together, fist bump, elbows, backhand, slap) thanks to muscle memory as he talked. “I’ve got a date anyway. Dora and I are doing homework at my place.”

“Tell her I said hi.”

“Will do. See ya, Mr. Stark.”

Mr. Stark mercifully assured him he’d take it from there. Peter was still half-convinced that claiming to be 18 would come back to haunt him. He wasn't ready for the legal ramifications. But a late night Google search assured him jail wasn’t likely for app related crimes. Peter spent the remainder of the night bracing for a text from Ned. He imagined Ned asking what was up or why Peter was spending so much time with Mr. Stark. Ned still didn’t know about the Grindr fiasco. The longer Peter waited the harder it became to even broach the subject (minus Mr. Stark’s name, of course). And then there were Peter’s fantasies. He started to wonder if the minor attraction he felt wasn’t turning into something else. Something all together more worrisome, more dangerous.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who has commented so far.

Usually Peter walked the several blocks it took to get home from school. He didn’t have a problem with it, for the most part. A lot of times Ned would walk with him if he was coming over. It wasn’t so bad when the weather was warm - even summer in New York. It gave him a chance to thaw out after being in heavily air conditioned classrooms all day. It also gave Peter a chance to think in between classwork and schoolwork. The walk helped keep him sane. And his sanity had felt less stable the more time he spent with the teacher who Peter was hopelessly attracted to and who he’d recently discovered also liked men. 

That’s why Peter declined when Mr. Stark offered him a ride home. He didn’t trust himself not to take the kindness and delude himself into believing it meant more. The second and third time proved more difficult. The fourth offer, had him ready to agree until Mr. Stark backed down. It continued until the day when a loud crack of thunder interrupted his refusal. His eyes darted between the dark clouds outside and Mr. Stark’s classroom door.

After a brief hesitation, Peter followed Mr. Stark to the faculty lot. He’d seen his car in passing before. It was a rust-colored, two door convertible that you saw car aficionados garage. Or in the driveway of someone having a mid-life crisis. Or both. Peter waited for Mr. Stark’s word before he opened the passenger door. Mr. Stark put on an oldies station and rolled down the front windows, despite his words about rain. The breeze from the open window had already started tangling his hair. The clouds overhead were dark, but dry. Peter tapped his foot along to the chorus of "Maggie May", partially because May sometimes played this stuff and it had grown on him. Though it was mostly because he needed to do move to keep from fidgeting.

Peter realized that the car had stopped. A quick glance confirmed they weren’t outside Peter’s building. Mr. Stark had parked them outside a building that used to be a drugstore, but was now nothing but dark windows with red-lettered signs. The possibilities as to why Mr. Stark had pulled them over rushed in, but were rejected just as quickly. 

Mr. Stark had been adamant that he wanted no part of what they’d started online. But when Peter looked again, Mr. Stark’s features were tensed in an uncharacteristic combination of uncertainty and frustration. His stare rested on Peter’s throat but didn’t meet his eyes.

“Do you mind stopping back at my place?”

“Of course not. It’s no problem,” Peter sputtered. “What’s up Mr. Stark?”

“I need to get something.” He offered, voice tight. Peter nodded along as Mr. Stark switched the gear from park back to drive. They made two right turns to circle in the opposite direction. The buildings they passed began to look less and less familiar. Peter didn’t often have a reason to explore outside his corner of Queens.

Back when he was a kid, they used to visit different places a lot more. Then Ben died. After that, May lost the desire to do a lot of things. For example, try the new Greek restaurant across the bridge or endure the subway for an hour in order to visit a used bookshop that reeked of mothballs and mildew from poor ventilation. Peter supposed part of him looked forward to dating so that he’d finally have an excuse to spend time outside of school and home. Granted, he would go anywhere Mr. Stark wanted to take him. It could be on his block or across the state.

They pulled up to a building with large windows, the exterior painted a trendy bland combination of gray and burnt orange signature to the newer properties. The place even included covered parking and an elevator, which they rode up to the fourth floor. Peter was still wearing his backpack out of habit. Inside the place smelled like fresh carpet adhesive and paint. Once they were finally in front of Mr. Stark’s unit, allowing Peter into the place where Mr. Stark ate and slept and kept his family photos. He followed Mr. Stark’s lead and took his shoes off in the entryway.

“I’ve gotta change out of this monkey suit,” Mr. Stark gestured at his jacket and tie. “Make yourself comfortable, I’ll be out in a minute.”

Peter sat down at a bar stool. Then he stood up in his sock-covered feet to pace around Mr. Stark’s small kitchenette. 

There was a pile of mail that Peter could already tell was full of advertisers’ fliers and credit card offers. A mug filled with cold coffee had been left beside the sink. He had a calendar of classic cars thumbtacked next to the door. Peter took in every little thing in his home while he could. He even thought about pocketing something of Mr. Stark’s – a flier with his address, his alma mater fridge magnet, his dish towel – anything to look at later and prove to himself this really happened.

Peter startled when he heard the shuffle of feet behind him. Mr. Stark walked out wearing a fitted long sleeve t-shirt and loose pants. He’d never seen him out of a tie. Peter couldn’t decide which was more flattering. All the sudden Peter was struck by the thought that Mr. Stark might not be wearing anything under his sweats. He couldn’t stop picturing Mr. Stark’s cock unrestricted in his sweats. The thought made him blush, suddenly both mortified and desperate to make out the shape of him through the loose fabric. 

“You know you don’t have to keep the backpack on.” Mr. Stark said, interrupting Peter’s thoughts. He reached out to gently touch the strap that Peter was still holding onto a little too tightly.

“Am I...are we staying?”

“I figure we’ve got a few minutes before I have to rush you out.” Mr. Stark shrugged. He turned away and gestured to the rest of the apartment, arms wide open. “So, whaddya think of the finest a teacher’s salary can buy?”

“It’s nice! I like the, um...cabinets? Ignore that. That was dumb.”

Mr. Stark chuckled. Peter felt it like a warm pulse between his legs. He fought the urge to adjust himself while in jeans, right in the middle of his teacher’s home.

“I’m just messing with you, kid. I’m well aware it's mediocre at best.” Mr. Stark walked into the open concept living area and lowered himself onto the couch. Peter noticed he was still wearing his black dress socks. He lingered awkwardly in the space of carpet between the two rooms.

“Thanks again for driving me.”

“You already thanked me twice in the car.”

“Oh.”

“Forget about it. What’s new? Staying out of trouble?”

“Yeah. I always do. Why? Do you mean, like, dating apps?”

“Among other things.”

“I promise, I haven’t even opened one since...,” Peter looked away out of embarrassment. The words died in the air unfinished before he processed Mr. Stark's last comment. “What other things?”

“This may come as a surprise to someone your age, but apps aren’t the only way to do it. Back in my day we propositioned each other in person. In person or by carrier pigeon depending on the mood and circumstance.”

“Yeah, well. There’s not anybody in my class who I’m that into. I guess there’s good looking people. I’ve just never really thought about dating them for some reason.”

He picked up his keys from the kitchen counter and began to toy with them.

“Agree to meet up with any more dirty old men?”

“No.”

“Good.” 

His intensity left Peter gawking at the possibility Mr. Stark might want him enough to dislike the idea of anyone else having him. 

“Your aunt’s going to wonder where you are.” 

Mr. Stark’s voice still had a hard edge to it. The look in his eyes left Peter questioning. The only thing he knew was that this was an order. Peter would be going home whether he liked it or not. 

The tension failed to dissipate as Mr. Stark drove through them through the dark streets of Queens. The intimacy of even being allowed inside Mr. Stark’s car, as well as his apartment, left Peter with a warm twist of arousal. Once they reached Peter’s street, instead of pulling up to the building entrance, Mr. Stark dropped Peter off one block down where he wished him a good night. Peter hopped up the steps without looking back, overly aware with how he moved his feet, imagining Mr. Stark’s eyes on him. Except once he got to his door, Mr. Stark’s car had already disappeared from the curbside. The sun had only just begun to set. It would still be a few minutes before May got home. 

In the dark of his bedroom, he tried to dissect the last few hours. The endless conjecture left Peter confused and frustrated. He took stock of his situation. A socially inept nerd afraid of his own sexuality, falling for his middle-aged teacher and desperate for any kind of touch from him. Peter couldn’t think of a more depressing love life if he’d tried.

After having dinner with May, finishing his reading for class and starting on next week’s assignment, Peter still hadn’t stopped thinking. Peter twisted in the bed from his back to his side to his stomach, over and over. He flipped his pillow over twice like May used to do when he was young. His eyes stung with exhaustion. By now the city garbage trucks had started their morning route. The screech of car alarms lulled him to sleep.

***

Being in class only got more difficult. Peter couldn’t get him out of his head. He had to listen to Mr. Stark lecture, week after week. He had to watch him and try not to imagine Mr. Stark’s uneven breath on his cheek, his body pressed against him. Being able to visualize the exact way Mr. Stark’s apartment looked only made it more difficult. That’s why on Friday afternoon Peter worked up the courage to speak to Mr. Stark again. He stood staring at the dingy canvas of his shoes and playing with his jacket cord, down the hall from Mr. Stark’s classroom. The whirring of an industrial vacuum one hall over drowned out the sound of someone else approaching. A group of lacrosse players barreled in from outside, laughing loudly at the same time Valerie said his name. Peter whipped around in surprise.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” Valerie smiled.

“It’s cool!” Peter’s voice cracked. “What’re you doing here?”

“My sister has a softball game and she’s my ride. What about you?”

“I just had to, um, ask my teacher a question?”

“I was just talking to Taylor and she said that Ned said that you were staying after for something. And I wanted to talk to you before the weekend. I feel bad about before when I...you know. I was feeling weird, but that was dumb. What I’m trying to say is, I’d really like it if you still wanted to go out.”

He couldn’t just blurt out that he had been thinking about men lately, specifically that he was willing to be with his physics teacher in any conceivable way that Mr. Stark would let him. He’d also miss his chance to see said teacher if he didn’t exit the conversation soon. Peter’s hand instinctively went to his pocket to grab his phone to check the time before he stopped himself. He had to see Mr. Stark. He didn’t know if he’d be able to make it through the weekend without losing his mind.

“Thank you!” Peter blurted out. “I mean, yeah, we can definitely go out sometime.”

“Cool. Do you have my number?

“I don’t think so.”

“Tell me yours and I’ll text you.”

Once Valerie began walking away, Peter watched her turn the corner before he broke into a walk-run towards Mr. Stark’s classroom. He made it in time to see Mr. Stark getting ready to leave for the day. Peter didn’t speak, instead indulging in the urge to watch Mr. Stark without anyone else around to question it. He looked clean-cut in a blue checkered shirt, navy tie. The fit was perfect. The shirt showed off the slimness of his waist and the sleeves hugged muscle in his arms. Peter couldn’t take his eyes off of him. Mr. Stark could make anything look good, Peter imagined - gym clothes, a ratty tee for yard work, a swimsuit. He panicked when he felt himself start to get hard. Even subtle signs of how much older he was turned Peter on, to a degree that it unsettled him and left him confused. He’d never found prescription glasses to be sexy before. But Mr. Stark’s black rimmed ones fascinated him. He thought back to his conversation with TNT39 and his body’s surprising reaction to the idea of an older man teaching him. Peter could feel his cheeks heating up, fidgeting with his backpack straps. Maybe this wasn’t a great idea. Maybe Peter was just setting himself up for failure. The longer he lingered there, the more his fear began to outweigh his resolve. 

Mr. Stark zipped up his briefcase to leave, but stopped short when his eyes met Peter’s.

“Hi, um. Is it an okay time?” His teacher’s eyes widened for a second before recovering. 

“Walk with me,” Mr. Stark said as he passed. Peter power walked behind Mr. Stark out of the school and into the parking lot, too eager to do as he instructed. Optimism chased by anticipation buoyed Peter. He had spent the last 48 hours obsessing over how Mr. Stark would react. He had prepared himself for frustration, apathy, unhappiness. But he didn’t know how to interpret what was currently happening.

“Mr. Stark? Did you want me to come too?”

“Get in,” Mr. Stark said unlocking his car, keyfob under his thumb. He came across more resigned than demanding. Peter rounded to the passenger side without any further questions. The interior smelled like recently vacuumed carpet and men’s deodorant, warm air grown stale after being sealed shut for hours. Mr. Stark sat down and shut the door behind him. He turned to face Peter, his eyes dragging up and down his body. The car came to life. 

“Apologies. That was all very kidnappy but I figure better safe than sorry. I figured we were due a conversation the nature of which I wouldn’t want to be in a classroom.” Mr. Stark said as he drove out of the parking lot. 

They rolled past a string of nondescript stores, though appeared to still be in business - a beauty salon, a Chinese restaurant, a cell phone repair shop, and a title loans agency. Mr. Stark finally chose the Jewish Center’s lot and drove to a corner shaded by a couple trees. Once they’d parked, Mr. Stark looked over at Peter expectantly. He mumbled into the silence left by the engine. 

“I’m not sure what I wanted to say.”

“I’ll start,” Mr. Stark stared ahead, fingers tapping at the steering wheel. “So, I think this is where I say that letting you into my apartment was highly inappropriate. I had a lapse in judgement. Disregard that I’m having a lapse in judgement right now.”

“Do you want me to go?”

“No.” he massaged the bridge of his nose. “See: aforementioned decision making skills.”

Peter clung to the small admission, squeezed tight to his chest. Mr. Stark seemed a little more relaxed. He propped his arm up against the wheel to better face him. The other hand rested on the emergency break between their seats so close to Peter’s. 

Peter tried to bring up Valerie but his body resisted. He realized it frightened him to say the words said aloud. When he spoke, he was watching the toe of his shoe pushing the junk mail under his feet. 

“A girl asked me out.” 

“And you’re regaling me with this because...?”

“I don’t know,” Peter hung his head. “I wanted to talk to someone. I guess.”

“Hey, I’m sorry. Take Suzie-Q out on a date.”

“Is that what you want?”

Peter hated how pitiful he sounded, feeling sick. His heart was sinking into his stomach. It was idiotic for Peter to expect any other outcome. Mr. Stark didn’t care what he did with his time, let alone who he dated. There was no reason why Peter shouldn’t go with Valerie. Mr. Stark had a million other things to worry about. He had already made it clear, the first time at the mall, that he didn’t want to get involved. But Peter realized that he had wanted Mr. Stark to tell him not to go on the date. He wanted Mr. Stark to tell him why a significant other or simply dating were poor decisions. Getting involved with a girl could negatively impact his grades. It would mean less time for tutoring with him after school.

“Yes. I want you to have normal experiences, Pete. The kind of experiences that aren’t breaking several laws. Understand?”

“I don’t want to lead her on.”

Peter looked — really looked — at Mr. Stark for the first time that afternoon. He was almost unrecognizable compared to their physics teacher who exudes confidence and authority over a class. He sat slouched behind the wheel; his crisp dress shirt wilted and rumbled, the unfocused twitch of his fingers. His head fell back only to hit industrial plastic instead of pleather. He winced and let loose a colorful stream of curses under his breath. Peter’s mouth twitched between laughter and concern. Instead he stayed silent and watched as he rubbed the back of his skull. Peter watched the bob of his teacher’s Adam’s apple, the rise and fall of his chest. Longing squeezed Peter’s lungs until it was too much to take.

“I just wanted to see you.”

“Don’t do this, kid.” Mr. Stark sunk further down in his seat. When he turned his head to look at Peter, the evening sun turned his eyes gold.

“I mean it.”

He didn’t have to let Peter into his apartment. It wasn’t absolutely necessary to drive Peter here, alone, just the two of them so far off campus. Peter swore he wasn’t crazy, he sensed something. He couldn’t be imagining the tension between them. He shifted up onto his knees to face Mr. Stark, rapt. He held his breath for any kind of signal in his teacher’s facial expression. Peter couldn’t handle being rejected twice. Mr. Stark had straightened up to watch him. They were at an impasse. Peter leaned over, stomach squeezed against the console between them. He bit his lip to hide the quiver that traveled from his face to his hands down to his legs. Mr. Stark didn’t budge. 

Peter had only kissed one person before during a Decathlon party last year. They had played spin the bottle with a cherry Coke from someone’s bag, brown liquid still sloshing from side to side when spun across the floor. Gabi landed on Peter and shared several pecks on the lips behind a pile of the marching band’s gear. Now he balanced himself placing a shaky hand on Mr. Stark’s chest. His teacher didn’t push him off. Instead, he stared at Peter’s lips in a way that looked like honest-to-god longing. It was so heady that a whine almost escape Peter’s throat.

Then a car door slammed shut. They both saw the white SUV parked two across from them. It was unclear if the car had a Midtown High bumper sticker or not, but Peter threw himself backwards. His hands shook as he reached for his seatbelt on instinct. 

“Shit, shit, shit.” They sat back for a moment, waiting for anyone or anything else. Peter apologized but Mr. Stark didn’t seem to hear it. “Fuck me,” he cursed at the ceiling.

Peter waited for him to take a series of slow breaths. He tried to compose his hummingbird heartbeat. But he couldn’t hide that he was equally startled and frightened. “They probably didn’t see anything, right?” Peter offered. “We didn’t do anything. It’s my fault when you think about it.”

“This is not on you. It was never on you.”

“Thanks.” Peter wiped at his nose, ignoring the moisture at the corners of his eyes.

“I’m gonna need a minute.” Mr. Stark announced before opening the door and stepping out, leaving him alone. Peter watched as his teacher paced between the faded parking spaces’ white lines. He felt each and every second alone in the car, unable to focus on anything except speculation of when or if Mr. Stark would come back, what he would say or if he would even speak to him. Peter tried to focus on something (anything) else: the quarter and a dime left in the cup holder, the gum wrappers on the driver’s side. For the first time Peter felt out of place in the unfamiliar car full of someone else’s belongings. He was intruding. Before the could spiral further, Mr. Stark ducked back inside. Peter stared at the profile of his teacher’s until he spoke.

“Things like this don’t end well.”

“Please don’t say that. Please, sir.” Peter asked hunched against the window, his mind still reliving the moment when he’d touched Mr. Stark.

“Best case scenario: we keep our distance and I try to minimize whatever shit I’ve already set into motion. You send me five years worth of therapy bills, with or without a restraining order, depends. Not sure about that one.”

“You’re not gonna hurt me.”

“Sweetheart, trust me on this one.”

Peter’s heart leapt at the endearment, the softness in his voice. Mr. Stark looked defeated sitting next to Peter in the driver’s seat. All Peter wanted was to make Mr. Stark happy. He saw this as a chance to do something without getting caught on school ground’s. As he leaned over once more, he squeezed his eyes shut so as not to see Mr. Stark’s expression. Peter pressed a small but determined kiss against Mr. Stark’s lips. He didn’t move into the kiss, but he didn’t push Peter back either.

“Pete. We’re on really fucking thin ice -”

“What if I go out with Valerie?”

“I need to take you home.” Mr. Stark deadpanned.

That didn’t stop the excitement from building inside Peter. He saw Mr. Stark thinking it over even as they rolled out of the parking lot. Their goodbye was filled with tension. Peter evaded the glow of the streetlights as he walked. He told himself it was just a few friendly dinners. Who cared if people assumed they were going out? Sure, this wasn't like him. None of it was a good idea. But now that Peter knew what it was like to kiss Mr. Stark, he couldn't give that up. He had to know what happened next.


	4. Chapter 4

The first time Peter broke someone’s heart, he was in the fifth grade. It happened while they were working on a group book report. He and Ned had been decorating a tri-board with a bottle of runny Elmer’s glue between them. Alice Beagle had passed a note to Peter. On it she asked if he was going to a classmate’s birthday party. Peter wrote a decisive “no” because Ned wasn’t going and he didn’t want to go alone. It had made sense at the time, too naive to understand her interest. Later he was informed by Alice’s friends that he had made her cry at recess.

He couldn’t stop thinking about Alice Beagle. 

Peter knew Valerie wouldn’t be happy if she knew the truth - that Peter wanted to be with their teacher but was too frightened to do anything about it. He decided that he’d spend the date trying to make up for it. He took the F and 7 trains to Flushing Meadows Park to meet her. They went for Italian ice first. Valerie chose chocolate and Peter chose lemon. They walked to the Queens Museum, scooping ice from paper cups as Peter asked about Valerie’s family. Everything went smoothly until the last exhibit. 

Valerie was talking in front of a stained glass lamp in shades of pink and red, when she brought up a cousin on her mom’s side.

“She came out last month. And she already has a girlfriend! My mom said that she told her parents they were even going to prom together.”

“That’s awesome!”

“Isn’t it crazy? I know some other girls who are gay, but zero guys. Do you think it’s like that at other schools?” She asked. Peter felt his cheeks heat up.

“I think I’m bi.” He blurted, like a breath he’d been holding in.

“Seriously?”

Her eyes widened for a split second, during which Peter’s heart stopped. It was the first time he’d ever said it aloud. Why had he done that? Maybe because the stakes were lower than if he’d told May or Ned or even the Decathlon team. He knew he must be bright red.

“Seriously.” 

“Have you told anyone? I mean, are you out to other people?”

“I haven’t gotten around to it…” Peter rubbed the back of his neck. He resisted the urge to look around to see if anyone could have overheard them. It wasn’t ideal that he’d just come out to his not-date on a whim. Maybe being overly honest about his still-shaky sexaulity somehow canceled out the secret about he and Mr. Stark. At least he could tell himself that.

“That’s cool!” She assured him. Peter thought she might be blushing too.

The conversation tapered off. A moment later, she surprised Peter by taking his hand and lacing their fingers together. Peter gaped down at their connected hands as if it wasn’t connected to his body. He began to sweat with indecision. They stayed linked as they made their way through the rest of the Tiffany displays. Mr. Stark would understand, he probably didn’t even care that Peter was touching someone else. In fact, this is what Mr. Stark had said he wanted. Right? 

He continued to hold Valerie’s hand until they moved into the next room. When they got there, Peter loitered beside a sculpture of ceramic feet, counting the seconds. He then released her hand and apologized for being clammy. Peter wiped his palms on his jeans for emphasis.

In another stroke of Parker Luck, he and Valerie had to take the same train to their respective stops. Peter smiled but kept his hands pressed between his knees while they made small talk. Valerie seemed content. Her shoulder nestled against his. Peter tried to focus on something else. He watched the man selling portable fans at the other end of the subway car. It seemed too soon to be acting so physically affectionate with each other. Suddenly Valerie leaned over and pressed a kiss to his cheek. Peter bolted upright to stand in front of their seats. 

“Peter?” A tinge of irritation seeped through her concern. “Are you ok?”

“Yeah? Why wouldn’t I be? I just had to stretch my legs.” 

Peter berated himself and held tight to the metal pole beside the bench where she sat. He kept his body angled away from her for the rest of the ride. At his stop, Peter offered a smile as they said goodbye. Anxiety gripped his throat.

***

It felt like everyone knew at school. Peter told himself that no one cared, that it wasn’t likely, but he couldn’t shake the uneasiness. At the very least, Valerie had probably told all her friends about the terrible date with Peter Parker. She would say Peter was too afraid to kiss a girl and had left her standing alone in the middle car of the 7 Flushing Local train.

Peter opened his locker and tried not to flinch when two girls nearby giggled. He looked for Ned in the crowd. They’d been texting over the weekend about Peter’s non-existent dating skills. Ned always took Peter at his word, never once suggesting that there was anything strange about his behavior. Though the only one Peter could talk freely with was his teacher. And he had to wait until the end of the day to talk with Mr. Stark in private.

By the time school let out, Peter had was exhausted. All of his classes had homework. Valerie hadn’t acknowledged him in the hallway. Not to mention May had been late to leave this morning because Peter dropped a carton of soy milk all over the floor. Then he had forgotten his history book at home, with his homework stuck between the pages. The end of the day couldn’t come soon enough.

Mr. Stark’s classroom was empty when Peter got there. He sat and waited another 20 minutes before Mr. Stark walked in with a stack of folders under his arm. Peter stood up as soon as he saw him. Mr. Stark hesitated only briefly in the doorway. If he was surprised by Peter being there, he hid it well.

“Mr. Parker,” he announced crisp and clear enough for anyone to hear. “You’re a couple days early for tutoring. What can I do for you?”

“It’s sort of personal.”

Mr. Stark pulled the door shut with a click. He positioned them away from the small rectangular window, his handsome face creased with worry.

“I went out with Valerie,” Peter started. “But it was weird. And now I don’t know if she’ll tell everybody. I just wanted to go through with it ‘cause you said I needed more normal-type experiences if we were gonna... So we went to the park and got Italian ice and all the things you’re supposed to do. But then at the end she acted like she was gonna kiss me and I panicked. I mean, aren’t you supposed to wait for the third date or something? We were on a train where everybody could see!”

“To be clear,” Mr. Stark tried and failed to hide his amusement. “We’re still talking about a kiss?”

“Yeah? I’m sorry for freaking out.”

“You don’t have to apologize.” Mr. Stark placed his hand on Peter’s arm. Peter could already feel himself leaning into the touch. They were close enough that Peter could see Mr. Stark’s individual lower lashes, and the crow’s feet around his eyes. Peter momentarily forgot what he had been saying. The world shrank down to Mr. Stark’s body being near to his. Their mouths were close enough that Mr. Stark could easily take Peter’s in a kiss.

“I don’t wanna go out with anyone else,” Peter mumbled.

Peter gathered up his courage and stepped closer until his chest was flush with his teacher’s. Mr. Stark’s hand stayed on him. He could feel the inhale and exhale of Mr. Stark’s lungs. For one heated moment, Mr. Stark touched Peter’s chin as if he were about to kiss him.

“You know we can’t do that here, sweetheart.” He said instead, voice pitched low. “The door isn’t even locked. Anyone could walk in.”

“I’ve been thinking.” Peter struggled to focus with the minimal space between them. “I was thinking that maybe we could meet up during the break. So we could see each other again. We could drive somewhere like before.”

“I think we can do better than a cramped car,” Mr. Stark replied with ease. “I’m thinking fewer spectators, more headroom. Ideally not on school property, if we’re dreaming big.”

“I can tell May I’ll be gone for a couple hours or something. We can meet wherever you want.”

He looked Peter in the eyes. “How about this? I’ll give you my number - under one condition. You have to swear to god that you’re not going to show this to anyone, dead or alive. I mean it. Got it?”

***

For once Peter was thankful he and May had to stay home for this year’s Spring Break.

He sent a message to Mr. Stark hours after he got the number. Peter was aching for the chance at more interaction. He felt so much nebulous want swirling around inside him. Except hours turned into days, and still no response came from Mr. Stark. When a notification finally pushed through from the contact “Tammy” (his pseudonym for Mr. Stark) Peter was eating dinner with May. His heart stopped when he saw the name. He coughed, trying not to choke on a mouthful of bok choy. May’s fork stopped halfway to her mouth.

“Are you alright?” She asked, ready to jump out of her chair to help.

“Yes. Totally.” Peter squeaked. He might say he could breathe again, if it weren’t for the excitement squeezing his chest. And maybe the bok choy. His brain screamed at him to read the text. Now. Any amount of waiting felt like torture. Even having the phone at the table was testing Peter’s will power.

“Is it the ginger? I should’ve stuck with Bobby Flay.” May complained. “This is what I get for branching out.”

“The food is great, May.” He said, full of affection for her. His fingers still inched towards the phone. “But I’m just gonna go to the bathroom real quick.”

Peter darted away. He closed the door behind him and sat on the closed toilet seat as he opened his lockscreen. The message was simple, one sentence long.

<<1 o’clock tomorrow?>>

Peter’s fingers flew across the screen in his haste to reply.

<<Yes!>>

He allowed himself a moment to get his head straight before leaving. He even flushed the toilet and ran the sink for appearances. May hardly glanced up at Peter when he sat back at the table, too busy struggling with a particularly slippery piece of vegetable. 

“Hey,” Peter started. “I wanted to let you know that I’m gonna go over to Ned’s tomorrow. It’s nothing big, just hanging out. He said, um, something about a game. There’s a DLC for Mortal Kombat? So we’ll probably be doing that and I might not answer my phone. But it’s fine because we’re not gonna leave his place or anything.”

“Oh. Sounds good, honey. Tell him I said hi!” 

Peter couldn’t sleep that night. He woke up early the next day with too much time to kill. It was both a relief and anxiety-inducing when Peter saw it was noon.

The trip took 30 minutes, 10 minutes spent grappling with the sick feeling of lying to May and 10 minutes second guessing if he should even be going. Peter was definitely out of his depth. He and Mr. Stark had never discussed what would happen once he got there. Peter began to question himself. What if his nerves got in the way? What if he read a signal from Mr. Stark all wrong? What if he said or did something completely inappropriate? The implications were there, enough for Peter to wear his favorite pair of boxers. His breaths shortened and his stomach turned.

Peter had seen for himself that this intense attraction between them wasn’t entirely one-sided. Coming here with that knowledge changed everything, for better and for worse. Peter was hyperaware. He could taste the smell of his own breath. The lingering sweetness of the gum from earlier was wearing off. Before he knew it, Peter was standing in front of the apartment number he had on a scrap of paper.

Peter’s nerves crescendo-ed when he heard the lock click on the other side of Mr. Stark’s apartment door. He didn’t have time to rethink everything and turn around. Mr. Stark appeared in front of him, taking up his vision. Peter took him in. His teacher looked like he had recently showered, roots dark and slightly damp. He was wearing sweatpants and a soft grey hoodie.

“Hi.”

“Hey ya,” Mr. Stark’s smile lines deepened around his mouth, reaching up to his eyes. He looked amazing. Peter’s prayed that he didn’t mess this up. He wanted this too badly.

“Why did I think you’d be anything other than punctual?” He joked when Peter had no response.

“I could go and come back!” Peter motioned behind himself. “If you need time. It’s no big deal, Mr. Stark. I think I saw a cupcake shop or something down the street.”

“I’d like it if you stayed. Unless you have somewhere else to be.”

“No.”

“Well then, make yourself comfortable.You want a beer?” He said while leading Peter further into the apartment. “The beer is a joke by the way. A man can only break so many laws in a day. Any issues getting here?”

“It was fine. I kinda remembered from before. And my aunt didn’t ask any other questions. Probably because I’m lame and never do anything against the rules.”

“Debatable.” 

Peter stood in limbo between the door and the kitchen. Mr. Stark’s hand moved not-so-subtly to Peter’s lower back. His index and middle fingers pressed into Peter’s spine as if testing his reaction. Peter moved where the pressure urged him. Mr. Stark walked them to the couch.

“You’re on edge,” he offered a smile. Peter looked back at him, aghast. “Let’s just shoot the shit. Nothing has to happen. Sound good?”

Peter licked his lips, “Yeah. Yes.”

He placed his phone in the center of the coffee table. That way he would know if May or Ned called. Not that anyone had reason to be suspicious. Peter admittedly hadn’t thought of the specifics through if May somehow went looking for him. Peter figured it would come to him. As long as he wasn’t gone for more than a few hours, everything would be fine. 

Even though Peter had been spending more and more time with Mr. Stark, he still suffered from a knee jerk reaction of this-isn’t-allowed when they touched. Peter told himself it was silly. He wanted this. He wanted to chase that physical ache instead of denying it. Mr. Stark sat next to Peter with his arm across the back of the couch. They were close, close enough that someone would make plenty of assumptions. Not that anyone could see them, Peter reminded himself. They were careful to never be seen together. Even if they went somewhere that they wouldn’t be recognized, strangers might take offense to Peter getting cozy with a man Mr. Stark’s age.

The weight of his teacher’s arm settled on Peter’s shoulders. Mr. Stark’s knee nudged into Peter’s thigh. Peter could spot the bit of chest hair and bare collar bone this close. Any self-inflicted doubts about his attraction to other men were melting away. The thing clawing at his chest was most definitely desire. Mr. Stark coaxed Peter closer until his side was pressed to Mr. Stark’s clothed chest. Peter caught the faint smell of generic deodorant. 

“Tell me, kid. What’ve you been up to?”

“Um. There’s this German show on Netflix,” Peter offered praying he didn’t sound like a middle-schooler. “It’s like sci-fi time travel stuff.”

“Sounds interesting.”

“Can I ask you a question?” Peter asked. He was too nervous for small talk. He had to know. “Did you ever think about me? I mean...before?”

“Oof. Straight for the jugular.” 

Tucked against him, Peter could feel Mr. Stark tense. “I’m not trying to get you in trouble or anything! You’re just so...so good looking. Everyone knows it. And I’m just okay. And I just never thought that you’d see me like that.”

“More likely than you think,” he confessed close to Peter’s ear. He sounded resigned. “It’s my job not to notice. But I’ll admit, you made it difficult even before the Grindr business. Reading all the naughty things you wanted to do. Honestly, I wasn’t sure middle-aged guys would be your type either.”

“Is that weird?” 

“Not at all. Just unexpected.”

“Maybe good weird?”

“Very. While we’re on the subject…Your profile mentioned being inexperienced. Just how little experience are we talking?

Peter felt Mr. Stark’s breath and the prickle of his beard. He burrowed closer into the other man’s side.

“I’ve had a little. I mean, I’ve never been with a guy. Not in real life. But I did stuff with a girl once. She kinda took my hand and put it down her pants. We were dancing at a party. I haven’t been to a lot of parties.”

“Hey, don’t worry about it. The truth is I’m attracted to you, and there’s not a lot you could say that would change that.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously,” Mr. Stark said in a rough voice. “See for yourself.”

Peter turned to see Mr. Stark palm himself through his sweats, clearly, unmistakably hard. Peter’s mouth fell open in spite of himself. Once Peter noticed he couldn’t tear his eyes away. He had never seen another man’s erection in real life. He found he wasn’t turned off in the slightest. Mr. Stark started to touch himself more purposefully under Peter’s attention.

“Does that help?”

“Yeah. It does,” Peter squeaked. “It really, really helps.”

“You want more?”

“Please.”

Both breathing heavy, Mr. Stark pulled his sweats down and let them drop to the floor. His legs now bare, his cock jutted out between them shamelessly flushed and aroused. His upper half remained covered. Arousal rushed hot and heavy through Peter. Mr. Stark’s cock looked imposing. Peter watched Mr. Stark pump himself, down to the dark pubic hair up to the flared head peeking through his fist. 

Mr. Stark’s hoodie and t-shirt rode up his stomach as he leaned back into the cushions. He did nothing to adjust or cover up. Peter stared at the trail of hair between the vee of Mr. Stark’s hips. Mr. Stark’s cockhead brush his toned stomach with each stroke. The visual in front of Peter muted every thought, save for having more of Mr. Stark’s cock; against, in, on, under, over, whatever Peter was allowed to have in this limited amount of time. 

Peter didn’t even feel like himself. His hips moved in time with Mr. Stark’s hand, squeezing his legs together for minimal friction. He leaned on one arm towards the cock in front of him. Peter heard himself whine when a viscous smear of precum wet the slit of Mr. Stark’s dick. Peter’s lips parted and he felt himself sway forward as if to taste. Mr. Stark’s free hand moved from the back of the couch to Peter’s neck, fingers in his hair.

“Shh, it’s okay,” Mr. Stark cooed. He was equally unrecognizable from the man Peter knew from the classroom. “You’ll get some. Don’t worry. You want me in your mouth?”

Instead of replying, Peter stretched to lick Mr. Stark. His first swipe of tongue missed his target, so that his nose and mouth brushing the side of Mr. Stark’s cock. But on the second try Peter took the entire head in his mouth. His tongue greedily lapped at Mr. Stark, who titled his head back and moaned. Fingers messaged Peter’s neck in encouragement. Peter licked up the side of Mr. Stark’s shaft, before returning to suck and kiss the tip. The thought of fitting more of Mr. Stark in his mouth had Peter’s throat tightening with nerves. He whimpered again when Mr. Stark gave a small thrust against his lips. Peter popped open the button of his jeans. His own dick tented his briefs. He had never been so hard in his life. Never. He was almost embarrassed for Mr. Stark to see him like this. Except that Mr. Stark did not seem to mind. He asked Peter to take more. The groans filled Peter’s ears. Suddenly Mr. Stark pulled back with a hiss.

Peter cracked his eyes open. Mr. Stark was staring back and holding his own cock in a punishing grip. Said cock bumped Peter’s chin. He calculated if it was worth the risk to start rubbing his cheek against Mr. Stark. 

“Do we have to stop?” Peter said, only reaching a hoarse whisper.

“Do you want to stop?”

“No, sir.”

They wrestled off Peter’s shirt and jeans, breathing into each other’s mouths. Peter refused to let them part even when his clothing got in the way. Mr. Stark kissed him with urgency. In the moment, Peter wanted Mr. Stark to fuck him right then and there. Peter wanted his teacher to take him in the middle of the carpet on his hands and knees. He wanted to chase this feeling. He wanted Mr. Stark to fuck him hard enough so that wouldn’t remember what it felt like before. 

They made it halfway to the bedroom. Mr. Stark crowded him against the nearest wall, and hoisted one of Peter’s thighs around his waist. It was a miracle that they made it further into the room. Mr. Stark blindly flipped on the light switch and instructed Peter onto the bed. 

“Can we keep the light off?” Peter managed. 

Mr. Stark’s mouth had moved to his neck. Peter’s brain fizzled out. He was distracted by the feeling of Mr. Stark’s tongue and teeth on his skin and the damp feeling of another man’s erection. He forgot all about the light when they started kissing again. Peter made quiet noises of appreciation into the other man’s lips.

Then Mr. Stark got Peter to sit on the bed. Mr. Stark crouched in front of him and maintained eye contact as he enclosed his lips around Peter and began suckling lightly. He didn’t hold back for long, swallowing down Peter in generous gulps. It felt so good that Peter could hardly look down. His teacher was giving him his first blow job. Peter was terrified of cumming all over Mr. Stark’s face and never being able to go near Midtown again. Except Peter could hardly speak to warn him. When Mr. Stark licked his balls, Peter’s world almost combusted. 

Peter tried to tell him to slow down. He held onto the bedspread for dear life. He fought to keep his hips down, mumbling nonsense. Through his haze he felt both of Mr. Stark’s hands move to his ass. Then fingertips between his cheeks as Mr. Stark’s hands squeezed and kneaded the muscles. Peter began to shake. Mr. Stark must have felt him trembling because he paused what he was doing to look up.

“Tell me to stop,” Mr. Stark sounded as wrecked as Peter felt. His hands stayed urging Peter towards his lips despite his words. “We shouldn’t be doing this. I shouldn’t be doing this.”

“Don’t stop, don’t stop.” 

Peter wrapped his arms around Mr. Stark’s neck and allowed himself to be pushed onto the bed by the older man. He was grateful for the support since his legs had turned to jello. Mr. Stark had him wait while he disappeared into the adjoining bathroom.

Peter tried to ignore his raging hard-on and relax, but the texture of the fabric was too soft and the bedding too thin to remind him of his own twin bed back home. Mr. Stark came back holding a purple bottle of lubricant, the kind Peter saw at the back of the stores but never bought. Peter couldn’t help noticing most of its contents had already been used. Mr. Stark climbed on top with Peter on his back, kissing him forcefully.

They started with Mr. Stark grinding their hips together. Peter arched up from the bed. He was desperate enough to think he could angle them so that Mr. Stark’s cock might slip between his cheeks and that he’d start fucking him. But the wide hands held his hips down against the bed. Peter whined and bit at Mr. Stark’s lips in response with no luck. Mr. Stark’s finger’s dipped below Peter’s balls, this time wet and cool. The initial press set off alarms in Peter’s head, signaling nothing was supposed to go inside that part of his body. But the feeling of Mr. Stark’s insistent cock against his leg motivated Peter. He heard himself start to beg as the first finger sunk fully inside him. Mr. Stark leaned down to bury his face in Peter’s neck. One then two fingers prodded at Peter until he couldn’t take it anymore. 

“Mr. Stark,” he sobbed. “Please.”

Mr. Stark guided the head of his cock, sheathed in latex, until it forced its way inside Peter’s hole. He muffled Peter’s cry by claiming his mouth. Peter wrapped his arms around Mr. Stark’s shoulders and he buried his fingers in his hair. Childhood gymnastics left Peter with enough flexibility. He could fold himself without much discomfort. Although his body first met the intrusion with resistance, Mr. Stark’s cock eventually slid home. Mr. Stark held up Peter’s legs and used them as leverage to fuck in and out of him. Mr. Stark stared rapt at where his cock sunk into Peter. 

“God,” his teacher groaned as his hips picked up speed. “That goddamn app. Couldn’t stop thinking about you, Pete. Knew you’d be such a good boy for me.”

“Wanted you too,” Peter confessed.

Every time Mr. Stark pushed back inside, Peter felt it from head to toe, thrusting harder and harder into Peter. The sight of Mr. Stark above him had Peter painfully hard and leaking again. Mr. Stark pulled out fully for a brief moment. Peter’s line of sight was blocked but he could see Mr. Stark reach down and pull off the condom. His bare cockhead rubbed between Peter’s cheeks and caught at his hole. Peter imagined he should have protested. Instead he grabbed at Mr. Stark for more. The risk was outweighed by the thought of Mr. Stark cumming inside him. A mewling noise escaped Peter’s throat that sounded like something he’d seen in porn. Mr. Stark warned Peter that he was close. Not long after, his hips slowed to a twitch as he pressed hard against Peter’s thighs. Peter shivered at the sensation of warmth inside himself and quickly began to stroke his own cock. 

He finished with Mr. Stark still buried deep inside him. When Mr. Stark did remove his cock, a trickle of cum slid down Peter’s leg. He tried and failed not to shiver. Mr. Stark’s thumb pressed where his cock had been into Peter, seemingly unbothered by the mess he’d made. Peter flinched at the odd sensation.

“I think this is a good look for you.” 

“Thank you?”

Mr. Stark chuckled. Peter couldn’t shake a twinge of embarrassment. He wished he were in a less vulnerable position. Thankfully they both moved to lay on their backs. Peter turned to face his teacher. He must have done well. Mr. Stark had said he’d felt good and that he’d wanted Peter as much as Peter wanted him. Peter wasn’t sure it was possible. As long as he hadn’t messed this up. As long as Mr. Stark would see him again after this.

“Hey,” Mr. Stark whispered.

He leaned over to kiss Peter before pulling back. Peter was taken aback by the gentle, almost protective look in Mr. Stark’s eyes. One of his hands rubbed Peter’s hip.

“Hi.” Peter replied.

“You doing alright?”

“Yeah.” 

Peter tried not to focus on the feeling between his ass cheeks that proved what they’d done. He wanted to kiss until they fell asleep, but they didn’t have that luxury. Peter had to be home in time for dinner. Or at least before May got suspicious. 

“No immediate regrets?”

“No,” Peter said and surprised himself a little to hear it outloud. If he could do it all over again, he would. He wanted someone experienced to take care of him. And Mr. Stark happened to be the sexiest person he knew in real life. Maybe his crush was clouding his ability to think but Peter didn’t care. He only hoped that the stars in his eyes weren’t too obvious.

“Good. You’re really something. You know that?”

“You are too.” The compliment had Peter feeling unexpectedly shy. “Is it ok if I, um, clean up?”

“Knock yourself out.”

Peter cautiously walked to the bathroom, and hoped nothing else came out in the process. He heard the rattle of glass and the pop of a bottlecap from the other room. He tried to use toilet paper to clean where his skin was still slick. His heart dropped when he looked in the mirror. Even in the dim light, Peter could see the skin on his face and neck glowing pink and irritated. 

It must be from Mr. Stark’s facial hair. May would know. She’d only have to take one look. Peter splashed cold water on his face to little effect. His pulse only picked up speed the longer he stared at his reflection. Peter forced himself to leave the bathroom before Mr. Stark thought something was wrong. Maybe he could help. Peter went back to the bedroom and found his boxers in a corner. He had no memory of flinging them that far. Peter found Mr. Stark similarly clothed at the kitchen counter sipping a drink. He put it down when he saw Peter. 

God, he was sexy. Too sexy for Peter to resist. Mr. Stark’s hair was tousled and his shirt wrinkled. He somehow looked even better than Peter remembered. Peter felt even more childish by comparison with the bottom half of his face bare and chafed to hell. 

“My face is kind of super red.”

Mr. Stark’s eyebrows shot up as he walked over. “I guess I really went to town, huh? Fuck. You’ve got some pretty sensitive skin.”

“‘M sorry.”

“Nothing to apologize for. I think I’ve got an idea.”

Peter left Mr. Stark’s apartment with a borrowed scarf wrapped around his neck. He pulled it up to his chin, nose full of his teacher’s cologne. New York was still cold enough this time of year that Peter didn’t stick out too badly. He kept his eyes down and tucked his hands into his pockets. Only when his hand hit his phone did he think to check it. 

3 missed calls and 15 new messages.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Friday!


	5. Chapter 5

May leveled him with her stare. She had her arms crossed, her hair pulled back in a ponytail, and her face a mixture of anger and disappointment. 

“I was on my way home, is the thing,” Peter began. “But then Mr. Botwinik stopped me and he kept talking for a really long time…”

“For the last four hours?”

“May, it was only like two and a half. Maybe three.”

“Peter Benjamin Parker. Do not start with me.” May held up a hand. “I can’t believe - how am I supposed to know you’re safe if I have no idea where you are! Why did you feel like you had to lie to me? What could possibly be going on that you’d want to hide? I thought we were a team.”

“I’m so sorry.” 

The twisting hurt in Peter’s stomach was so intense that he worried that something physical might be wrong with him. He needed to sit down. She was never supposed to get mixed up in this. He had been so sure none of this would ever happen. He had been so stupid. It was difficult for Peter to come up with a less hurtful lie on a good day, let alone with May staring at him with that look in her eyes. Peter obviously couldn’t tell her the truth. Ned had ruined his original cover story, not that it was his fault. 

“I didn’t know what to do,” he pleaded. “I..I saw the girl. From the mall. I didn’t want to say anything because she’s, um, in college. A sophmore. And she asked me not to say anything since we just started going out. I’m really sorry. I want us to still be a team.”

“Oh sweetie. All of this because of a girl?”

“Yes?” Peter cringed. 

He folded and unfolded his arms around himself. At least he could blame the blotchy red color of his face on embarrassment now. Peter could still taste a sour hint of whiskey from his last kiss with Mr. Stark. Despite a strange new sense of soreness, Peter didn’t feel like anything had changed. It was a lot like having a birthday. He expected 16 to feel different than 15, and the next year and the next. But it never did, or not in any significant way that Peter could recognize. The sound of Mr. Stark’s voice when he’d called him ‘sweetheart’ repeated in his head on loop.

“I should have known I got off too easy. I knew to expect some changes when you became a teenager but you were always so good! Is it because I’m not around enough?”

“No! Oh my god, no! You’re amazing. You’re the best aunt I could ever ask for.”

“I want to support and nurture your expressions of independence,” she sniffed. “But I can’t do that if you don’t let me in.”

“I know.”

“I need some time. And for the next few weeks I don’t want you going anywhere other than home and school. In fact, no debate or tutoring. Straight home.”

***

One call and two texts were from May. The rest were from Ned. 

Sent from Ned Leeds: _ <<Your aunt said she needs u to get groceries for casserole. She thought u were here? My bad.” “I’m sorry dude.” “So. Secret cult meeting? Cute girl? Cute girl in a secret cult? Do I know her?” “WTF r u okay? >>_

Peter didn’t know how to respond, except to apologize and assure Ned they’d talk about it tomorrow at school. He felt lost. They didn’t have secrets. Sometimes he kept little things from May like the occasional run-in with a bully or late project or spending too much on a Lego set. But not Ned. They had shared everything since they were 8-years-old. That was the year Ned had entrusted Peter with the code to the NASA-blue lockbox under his bed. Peter remembered he lid decorated in silver star stickers and Ned’s initials in Sharpie. Peter hated having to lie to their faces about what he did with Mr. Stark. He hated that he hadn’t even told Ned that he liked guys. Deep down he didn’t he was afraid things would change between them. No more worst case scenarios though. Peter couldn’t tell Ned everything right now, but he could do this.

They sat across from each other in the band rehearsal room, between creaky music stands and scuffed-up bass drums. They spent study hall here more often than not thanks to Dora. It was just the two of them today.

“Dude, spill!”

“Okay, okay.” Peter squirmed where he sat. “I know I should have told you. I just didn’t know how. I guess. I - I was on a date. Kind of. It’s complicated.”

“What do you mean? Is she in a cult? Was I right?”

“No one’s in a cult!”

“So definitely not a Scientologist?” Ned asked him with a skeptical look.

“No! Did you watch that Netflix documentary again?”

“Fine, whatever you say, bro. So she’s not a Scientologist. What’s the big deal then? You told me about Liz when we were both mad crushing on her. I told you about Dora.”

“It’s different.” Peter looked away. His throat felt too tight. “S’not a ‘she’.”

“What...like, a dude? Are you coming out right now?”

“I wasn’t sure and I kept not bringing it up and it was never a good time,” Peter rambled. “But yeah. I like guys. Are we still cool?” If they weren’t gonna stay best friends anymore, better to hear it now.

“We’re always gonna be cool,” Ned sighed. “I’m just butt hurt that you didn’t think you could tell me sooner. And also, like, I should have known or something.”

Peter hunched forward with relief, running a hand through his hair. It was going to be okay. Ned had said they were cool. A group of girls giggled from across the room, looking down at someone’s phone. They were too absorbed to have heard anything.

“Don’t worry. I hardly knew. I should have said something,” Peter apologized. “And there’s no way you can know if I didn’t even know. I was freaking out.”

“You can always freak out with me. That’s what I’m here for. So when am I gonna meet this guy?”

“He doesn’t go to this school.”

“He isn’t some rando from the internet, is he?” Ned’s eyebrows shot up when Peter didn’t immediately respond. “Dude, you gotta be careful! What if this guy turned up and was a jerk? You should’ve told me so I could be your backup muscle if anything went down.”

“Next time.”

“You promise?”

“I swear. I swear on my holo-Charizard and my signed Fire and Ice copy.”

“Deal.”

They performed their not-so-secret handshake as effortlessly as ever. Peter had no idea if or when he would meet another guy online. Peter wasn’t naive enough to think Mr. Stark was his boyfriend. But they weren’t nothing either. He knew what it must mean something to Mr. Stark too. Peter also had no idea how he should break the news that he wasn’t a virgin anymore. 

Peter felt so buoyed after coming out to Ned that he felt the urge to tell Mr. Stark about it. Except they couldn’t see each other for tutoring this week or the next. He wanted to text him, but according to their rules, Peter wasn’t supposed to message Mr. Stark during school hours. Of course that meant that he wanted to constantly. It was rarely anything important, just something to know Mr. Stark was thinking of him. Just some kind of contact since it was so difficult to be alone together. Peter had made sure to pass Mr. Stark’s room this morning for a moment of eye contact and a wave. That’s all they’d managed. 

Hours felt like days and days felt like weeks. When the principal required all students to attend a Wednesday afternoon pep rally, Peter’s only thoughts were of Mr. Stark. Peter filed into the gym with the rest of his class to sit in their section of the bleachers. Peter saw Mr. Stark talking to another teacher a few feet from his own class. The sight of Mr. Stark’s smile tugged at something in Peter’s chest. He and Ned sat near the top, far enough from the cheering to hear themselves talk but close enough that no one would pick them out of the crowd. A group of students dressed in t-shirt spelling M-I-D-T-O-W-N in black duct tape rushed in. They motioned for the crowd to get up and start chanting as the band started playing. Peter was standing on his toes to peer above his classmates’ heads when his phone vibrated twice in quick succession. He counted to five before looking. Both were from Mr. Stark’s number: _<<Auditorium. Ten minutes.>>_

Peter had to bite the inside of his lip to stop a huge, ridiculous smile from drawing attention. It felt like he could breathe again. He used all of his will power to remain seated for the next several minutes and feigned interest in the pep rally, leg bouncing up and down. Exactly 8 minutes later, Peter turned to Ned to say he was going to the bathroom. Peter squeezed past his classmates. Their teacher gave him a quasi-threatening stare before allowing him to leave mid-cheer performance. Peter walked down the hall until he could no longer see the gym entrance. He then broke into a jog the rest of the way to the auditorium. He was slightly out of breath when he swung open the door to the empty theatre, instantly searching for Mr. Stark in the dim lighting. Peter jumped when his teacher walked out from behind the control booth.

“Fancy seeing you here Mr. Parker.” Mr. Stark greeted him, hands in pockets. “Aren’t you supposed to be in some kind of hurrah-hurrah, go-team type assembly?”

“I told them I was going to the bathroom,” Peter offered, suddenly feeling shy. Had that been the right thing to do? Should he have handled it differently? Should he have told his teacher something else? Peter realized he didn’t know. 

“Fair enough. I stepped out to take a call. Told ‘em a good friend’s wife is having a baby and she’s due any minute. He’s a mess. First kid and everything. Big deal.”

“Do you actually know someone having a baby?” 

Mr. Stark smiled. “Not exactly the point.” 

He placed a hand on Peter’s chest. Peter basked in the touch and the simple fact that he had Mr. Stark’s body so close to his again. Mr. Stark’s hand slid up his neck and into his hair. He guided Peter’s lips to his. Peter groaned into Mr. Stark’s mouth, opening for him immediately, excited by the scratch of his beard and the heat of his breath. The kiss grew deeper and more harsh with each passing second. Mr. Stark backed them up to the wall. Peter’s fingers fumbled for purchase, catching on Mr. Stark’s tie and pulling at the knot. 

Mr. Stark slowed the kiss despite Peter’s efforts. Peter wanted him more desperately than before. He needed this. He felt like he might die if Mr. Stark didn’t take him apart in the next few minutes. Now that Peter knew what he’d been missing, now that he knew the shape and the taste and the feel of it. As soon as Mr. Stark touched him Peter melted in his hands. He felt Mr. Stark becoming hard as they continued to kiss. The hot bulge straining against his teacher’s pants drove Peter crazy. 

Before Peter could worry about coming in his pants, Mr. Stark turned him around so that Peter was facing the wall with his teacher behind him. He pulled Peter’s hips so that his ass was firmly nestled against Mr. Stark’s crotch. Mr. Stark rocked into Peter from behind, causing both to moan. Both hands held Peter in place. They slid under Peter’s shirt. Peter gasped, eyes closing and back arching. Said hands traveled across his exposed stomach, following the sparse hair that extended past his belly button and into his boxers. 

“Let me.”

“Yes,” Peter answered without hesitation. He let his head fall back so that Mr. Stark could bite at the skin behind his ear, eager but gentle enough to not leave a mark.

“Think you can come before anyone notices we’re gone?Think you can do that for me?” Mr. Stark had already freed Peter from his pants. He paused to wet his hand with spit before slicking up Peter’s hard length. All the while, Mr. Stark watched his own hand from over Peter’s shoulder.

“I- what if- oh god, Mr. Stark.” Peter gasped. He wanted to warn Mr. Stark. He didn’t have to worry about taking too long to come. The heat of Mr. Stark’s body wrapped around him, the tease of his erection prodding at Peter’s back and the incredible drag of his palm over Peter’s sensitive skin. Everything felt so good, like beating the final level or acing a test or a childhood memory of seeing Time’s Square lit up at night, all rolled into one.

“That’s it,” Mr. Stark whispered, fist pumping faster. He deviated from his rhythm to occasionally squeeze Peter or brush along Peter’s balls with the tips of his fingers. Peter was bucking wildly into his touch. Mr. Stark’s free hand curled around his chin and one of his fingers found Peter’s bottom lip. He softly instructed Peter to suck, who took to the task with enthusiasm. Through his daze Peter was able to appreciate how much thicker Mr. Stark’s fingers were than his own. He whimpered as he laved said finger with his tongue. Peter was burning up, eyes threatening to roll into the back of his head. Mr. Stark’s breathing came hard and fast. Holy fuck, Peter was going to come. He let go of Mr. Stark’s finger to let him know.

Suddenly the weight was gone from Peter’s back. Mr. Stark rounded on him so that he was now in front of him. It took several seconds for Peter to realize what Mr. Stark was doing when he got on his knees. He stared at his erection slipped between Mr. Stark’s between lips. When the finger he’d been sucking on wedged between his ass cheeks and entered him, Peter sobbed, blitzed out of his mind with arousal. The finger inside his hole was rough contrasted with the silky heat surrounding his cock. Peter’s orgasm rushed down his spine. He hunched in on himself, towards Mr. Stark’s bent head. Peter felt himself coming. He moaned Mr. Stark’s name who only took Peter deeper with each burst of cum. He thought he even heard Mr. Stark hum with approval as Peter finished in his mouth.

Peter opened his eyes to see Mr. Stark release his now-limp penis and wipe his lips with the back of his hand. He could still hardly believe it wasn’t a dream. What had his life turned into? Peter felt himself blush when Mr. Stark tucked him back in and zipped up his jeans for him. He hadn’t even touched Mr. Stark. He wondered if they had time. Mr. Stark’s erection obviously bulging in his dress pants as his teacher stood up. His teacher squeezed himself as Peter watched.

“Trust me, I wish we had more time too,” Mr. Stark caressed his cheek. “As it is, I need to take care of some things in the faculty bathroom and you need to get back to class.”

“Are you sure?” Peter was transfixed by the dark look in Mr. Stark’s eyes. Of course he needed to go, like now, but class felt light-years away.

“Fuck. Get outta here before I get us into some real trouble.”

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have -”

Mr. Stark pulled him into another kiss. Both hands framed Peter’s face. “Don’t be sorry,” he said. “Now scram.”

Peter nodded and made to slip out of the auditorium. The hallways were still quiet. He might still have a chance. If Ned, or worse his homeroom teacher, asked anything he’d have to make up a story about being sick. Ned would probably suggest May’s infamous quesadillas. Peter didn’t want to think about that now. Part of him was preoccupied imagining scenarios if he had stayed and taken care of Mr. Stark. He must be rinsing his mouth right now to avoid someone seeing or smelling any trace of Peter on him. Either that or Mr. Stark had his hand wrapped around his own cock, possibly jerking off to the thought of Peter. He stopped in the middle of the linoleum tiled hallway, overwhelmed by the mental image. 

Peter heard their principal closing out the rally with one of his inspirational speeches as he got closer. His stomach churned when he thought about how long he’d been gone. Peter cracked open the gym door and shuffled inside with his head bent down. His body tensed walking past his homeroom teacher, waiting for her to call him out. She only gave him a passing glance. But Peter couldn’t shake the creeping fear that he’d been too conspicuous. 

Ned didn’t interrogate him either when he got back, not about quesadillas or Scientology or if he’d started sneaking behind the building to smoke with kids who went to college parties at St. John’s or Queensborough Community College. He filled Peter in on what he’d missed, which turned out to be not much at all. And so Peter tried to relax. Peter and the rest of the students were eventually released to go home, trailed by the expectation that they should return that night to support the Midtown Tigers’ football team. Except he and Ned hadn’t been to a single game.

Peter thought the lingering tension would have left him by now. It clung to him even after getting out of the building and into the open air. As much as Peter wanted to pretend otherwise, he and Ned almost never broke school rules. None of his teachers had called May with concerns, he’d never been given detention, he had a near-perfect attendance record and he spent his weeknights after school either at Decathlon or studying. 

The upcoming parent-teacher conference definitely didn’t help with his nerves.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The most sincere thank you to everyone who has read, and most of all, commented along the way. Maybe I'll even return to the pairing. Here's to writing ridiculous porny fantasies into long form fanfic.

.

May insisted upon meeting Mr. Stark. 

Parent-teacher meetings weren’t required, at least not with every instructor, but May made it her mission to thank the man for tutoring Peter after hours. That’s how Peter found himself sitting beside May, staring across the desk at Mr. Stark. Every muscle in Peter’s body was tensed as they talked. He kept his hands clenched in his lap, watching both adult’s faces for any sign of friction between the two. Except neither acted as if anything were out of the ordinary. Mr. Stark looked poised but calm, professional but a little loosened up by the end of the day. Peter couldn’t stare for too long, or stare in the wrong way. They definitely couldn’t make eye contact. The more effort Peter put into not thinking about Mr. Stark touching his dick, the more difficult it became to think of anything else.

“...and I can’t say that about most of the kids I teach.” Mr. Stark smirked at May.

Peter watched them laugh over a joke he had missed. Mr. Stark didn’t spare him a glance. He hadn’t taken his eyes off his aunt the entire time they had been there.

“I’m biased,” May replied. “But I agree, I think he’s amazing. Couldn’t ask for a better kid.” 

She put her hand in Peter’s hair and ruffled it. He ducked away, horrified. The last thing he wanted was to be infantilized in front of the man he was crushing on. 

“I can see where Peter gets it from. If you don’t mind me saying so, Mrs. Parker.” 

Peter tried to ignore the queasy feeling in his stomach. He might as well not even be in the room. But he wasn’t jealous of May, obviously. That would be weird. There was no way May was his type. Sure, she was actually Mr. Stark’s age and pretty enough that every guy they met tried to hit on her. But not Mr. Stark. He would never do that.

May scrunched her nose at the compliment. “That’s kind of you to say, but I barely got past algebra one. That’s why I so appreciate you taking the time to tutor him”

“No problem at all. It’s my pleasure, really.” 

Mr. Stark leaned back and adjusted his tie. Watching May-watching Mr. Stark, Peter noticed a shift in her demeanor. There was focused energy in the way she held herself that hadn’t been there before. She pushed her glasses back in place, staring down Mr. Stark. Peter didn’t know what she was about to say, but skin prickled with apprehension.

“You know, I’ve been meaning to ask. Do you offer this type of outside tutoring to many other students? And for work assigned by another class no less?”

“I’ll admit Peter is a special case,” Mr. Stark sat up in his chair. That had caught his attention. He leaned forward with his elbows on the desk. 

“It really helps, May!” Peter interjected, quick the defense. 

He realized that he had shouted when May gave him a skeptical look. Peter toyed with his hands in his lap and focused on his breathing. He didn’t know what he was even defending Mr. Stark from. He repeated to himself that everything would be fine. She didn’t know anything. She might not mean anything by it. But Peter’s panic had already started to mount. He pressed his lips together to physically keep himself from spewing out justifications and making things worse.

“It’s fine. I get it, you want to know more about your nephew’s education. Can’t blame you. The truth is that I hate to see a kid as advanced as Peter not getting the support he deserves. And I consider myself a bit of a math whiz.”

“My understanding was that the class was supposed to prepare him for a more hands-off style in college.”

“Certainly. We’re finishing up the year but I’d be happy to cut back to give the kid more practice on his own. I defer to you, Mrs. Parker.”

“Thank you. Speaking of college, I have another question. There must be some science-type grants and scholarships he hasn’t told me about. Are there some he could apply for?”

“That’s more of the school counselor’s area than mine.”

“Did he ask you for a letter of recommendation? I hope he wasn’t too shy to ask.” She turned to give Peter a pointed look. “You’re his favorite teacher after all.”

Peter wished he could be anywhere but in this classroom. Her interrogation about their tutoring sessions left him shaken. His thoughts warred between trying to decipher what May meant by asking that and his sense of self-preservation begging him to think of anything else. He wouldn’t acknowledge either of them.

Mr. Stark twirled a pen between his fingers. “Any of the schools would be lucky to have him.”

“Peter what do you -” May was taken aback by whatever she saw on Peter’s face. “Oh, honey, are you alright?” 

“I’m fine.” Peter lied. A couple more minutes and they could leave. He would text Mr. Stark once he was alone. She didn’t know anything. “I just - It’s just that talking about college really stresses me out.” 

“I guess it is getting late,” May began to stand. “Thank you for your time, Mr. Stark.”

Days later Peter was pressed face-first into Mr. Stark’s bed sheets as his teacher took him from behind. This time had felt different than the others. Peter had been assertive in what he wanted and less patient in waiting for it, lubing up Mr. Stark’s cock and staring into his face as he guided Mr. Stark inside. It always felt like it had been months since they were last together - interspersed as their meetings had to be. It wasn’t enough. Peter needed him all the time. Mr. Stark responded with enthusiasm, rougher than in the past. His grip in Peter’s hair was a little too hard and his hips a little too fast. Though even the brief discomfort had contorted into something pleasurable for Peter.

Now Mr. Stark sat across from him on the bed, relaxed and toying with Peter’s hand between them. They bantered without saying much. May wouldn’t be expecting him for another hour at least. He’d told her he was seeing Valerie again though he might stop by Ned’s. This time Peter had let his best friend know ahead of time. They finally had a moment to themselves without other stressors pressing on all sides. And yet, to Peter’s horror, he felt the pressure of tears building behind his eyes. 

“Hey, shhhh.” Mr. Stark comforted him. “What’s going on?” 

Mr. Stark’s features had fallen with concern. His hand cupped Peter’s cheek, the younger leaning into his touch while also hiding his face. They were still close and mostly undressed except for a t-shirt Peter had thrown on. Mr. Stark’s soft cock was still resting against his thigh. 

“It’s stupid.” Peter hadn’t planned on doing this here and now. Part of him hoped he wouldn’t have to do it at all. If he didn’t go, there was nothing to discuss.

“Try me.”

“I, um. I got the acceptance letter from Berkeley.” 

“Congratulations! You had me worried there for a second.” Mr. Stark gave him a wide grin. “This is phenomenal. But hey, I understand some hesitation. It’s completely normal to be nervous. You should be proud though, kid.”

“I’m not going.” Peter shook his head, frustrated at himself and his onslaught of emotions. “I don’t even know why I’m saying anything…”

“I think you do know,” Mr. Stark stared back at him. “I think you’re telling someone because you know that turning it down is a mistake.”

It hurt worse than he’d ever imagined hearing Mr. Stark talk about it so calmly. He had accepted it without question. Peter couldn’t wrap his head around the idea that this had reached its end so soon. A small, hopeful part of him insisted that someone, somewhere that was like them must have made it work. Of course it must be rare. But not every single student-teacher affair had to end in disaster...right? His eighteenth birthday was only a few months away. He might not be able to go to bars and stuff for a few years, but he might be able to get his own place. There had to be a way to make Mr. Stark realize that he cared.

“You wouldn’t care if I met someone else?” Peter implored. He let his knees spread a little wider, even as his heart beat fast. He clutched at the hem of the shirt, hands wringing the fabric distractedly. Mr. Stark’s eyes follow the movement of his hands and then skim over the naked skin Peter left exposed. 

“Some greasy fratboy’s hands all over you? I’ll admit I’m not a fan. That’s beside the point. The point is that you deserve to go to a great school. And Berkeley is a great school.”

“Thanks. That’s,” Peter’s vision blurred at the edges. As he picked up his clothes off the floor, he angled his body away. Peter felt like an idiot. He had practically begged Mr. Stark to tell him to stay only to fall flat on his face.

He heard Mr. Stark sigh behind him. Peter caught a glimpse of his teacher hanging his head between his knees before he looked back up. 

“Sure thing. You got places to be. Let me give you a ride.” Mr. Stark said, wiggling his briefs back on. Peter looked away.

***

The absolute worst part was that Mr. Stark was right. And why would Peter stay where he wasn’t wanted? Berkeley would be amazing. May had been saving and printing out loan forms. Peter had even started one of his scholarship applications, despite saying otherwise. Eventually he told Ned and the others at Decathlon. Ned immediately started planning when they could Skype or get on Twitch between the time zones. Peter had added that it wasn’t a sure thing. Everyone assumed it was. It might take some work on his and May’s parts, but of course Peter would find a way to go.

After the scene at Mr. Stark’s apartment, Peter did his best to avoid him. Not only was he ashamed of his own emotional reactions but he couldn’t bear the immense feelings of rejection when he so much as heard Mr. Stark’s voice. There had been a couple texts from Mr. Stark but nothing substantial enough to make Peter think he’d changed his mind about wanting Peter to leave. Peter couldn’t believe that for a split second Mr. Stark would agree with him that he should stay, that he might even fight for Peter.

Days turned into weeks which turned into a full month without speaking. Most of his peers were distracted by their upcoming prom. There were legistics about limos and renting tuxes and who would be included in which group’s pre-dance dinner paid for by the parents. Under pressure from Ned, Peter agreed to go with a friend of Dora’s so that they could go as a foursome. His date was a shy girl named Lindsey who had made it clear that the arrangement wasn’t romantic. She was just there to support Dora. Nevertheless, Peter bought her a corsage and coordinated his tie to her dress, a tangerine strappy silk dress similar to their classmates except she wore a black long sleeved top underneath. Lindsey looked about as comfortable as Peter felt when he slipped the corsage over her wrist. Both were hyper aware of their hands touching for too long. The four of them posed for pictures outside of Ned’s building, strategically blocking the trash cans behind them.

Midtown High had rented out the Regency Party Hall for the occasion. The venue had made a feeble attempt at the theme, 80s teen movie. It ended up looking like an uneven mashup of disco and Stranger Things off-brand decorations. At first Peter had fun hanging out with their group at one of the tables, but soon couples started pairing off to dance. Lindsey disappeared once Dora started dancing, leaving Peter to fidget alone in his chair. He wanted to be in a good mood for Ned’s sake but watching people flirt with their dates for song after song got to him. If he was honest, all he wanted was to text Mr. Stark and ask if he could see him. When Peter saw two guys holding hands, his fragile optimism snapped.

Peter looked back at Ned one last time before beelining for the exit sign. He tried the push bar on the door. Thank god it wasn’t locked. He stepped out into a parking lot next to a park with trees and a couple of concrete benches. No one else seemed to be around. Until Peter caught the acrid smell of cigarette smoke.

“Turns out chaperoning is a tougher gig than you’d think.”

Mr. Stark looked like one of Peter’s wet dreams, dressed in tailored navy pants and jacket over a pristine white shirt with the top two buttons undone to reveal a hint of skin. Immense, visceral relief flooded Peter at the sight of him. Mr. Stark looked like he should be at some million dollar fundraiser talking to beautiful people with flutes of champagne in their hands. Instead he was in a dark alley behind a building full of ungainly teenagers. 

“I didn’t know you were gonna be here,” Peter sputtered.

“Kind of a last minute thing,” Mr. Stark took another drag from his cigarette. “They needed more bodies and I couldn’t come up with a good excuse. That’s how it goes when you’re the single and childless guy on staff.”

Peter should leave though he desperately wanted to stay. This was the most that they’d talked in so long and Peter was already feeling that warm, insane thrill he associated with Mr. Stark but amplified.

“Oh. Sorry.”

“I’ll survive. What about you? Aren’t you supposed to be dabbing or flossing or something with your peers? Your date's gotta be missing you.”

“It’s not a real date.” 

Peter hadn’t seen her since the limo ride. He assumed she was hanging around Dora. The mention of a date from Mr. Stark sparked something in Peter. His jacket was suddenly too warm and heavy. Something like adrenaline replaced the dejected feeling. 

“Do you kids still do after parties?” Mr. Stark continued as if Peter hadn’t said anything. “Rent hotel rooms for time away from the parents?”

“I wouldn't.”

He hated that Mr. Stark could even joke about that. Peter had no interest in checking into strange motels. He imagined cheap, rumbled sheets and bland abstract art on the walls. The sweat and the mess. The only person he would considering doing that for was Mr. Stark. He must know that, must know that Peter would go right now if he said the word. It hurt more than Peter could describe that Mr. Stark might not feel the same way. 

“Always above board.”

“Why do you want me to go out of state?” Peter blurted.

He hadn’t meant to ask, he had meant to go back inside and nurse the pain in his chest until it was time to go home. If Mr. Stark wanted to push him away, he told himself he didn’t care. But here he was, staring up at Mr. Stark, desperate for answers.

“Because, Peter.” He put out his cigarette and sighed. “I want you to do great things.”

“But that doesn’t mean-”

Mr. Stark ducked down to capture Peter’s lips. The kiss sent him stumbling backwards but Mr. Stark’s arms caught him. What started as breathing against one another turned into a real kiss as Peter’s lips opened under his. They continued that way, breathing harshly and invading each other’s space. Hands grabbed at one another and Mr. Stark’s teeth pulled at Peter’s lower lip. Peter moaned a little too loudly at the familiar feeling; the scratch of Mr. Stark’s beard against his face, the shape of a larger body covering his own. Mr. Stark forced them apart.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.” Mr. Stark said before joking, “Sounds like the title of my autobiography.”

“Why would you kiss me if you want me gone?”

“Your aunt called me. She saw me dropping you off late at night. I told her it was nothing to worry about. But if she sees me with you again, I’m pretty sure she’s calling the cops.”

“It isn’t like that! I wanted to see you. Maybe if I explained...”

“Nobody else is gonna see it that way. It’d only make this shit-show worse.” Mr. Stark massaged his forehead. “What’s done is done. We both gotta accept that.”

Peter had no idea what to say. Mr. Stark was walking away. Music slipped out as Mr. Stark slipped back into the building. He didn’t look back. Peter spent the rest of prom sitting on a bench, trying to ignore the tight pain in his chest. He typed out fifteen different texts to his teacher. Some apologized for anything and everything. Some were angry accusations. Some simply asked him to take Peter back. He deleted every single one.

***

California meant bigger lawns, cleaner air, wider sky. It was beautiful. But it never completely chased away Peter’s homesickness. He couldn’t go to a Thai restaurant without comparing the flavors to Prachya’s food back home; too salty, too bland, too brightly lit. Everything was too spread out and he had to pay a ton of money for an Uber to get anywhere. He missed the subway and the corner grocery and the familiar building signs. Peter’s part-time job at another convenience store. He made sure to call May at least once a week.

Mr. Stark didn’t have any kind of social media. Peter could only guess what had or hadn’t changed since he left New York. He stayed out late and danced and drank. He was out to everyone for the first time in his life. The new friends that he had made teased him about his lack of a dating life.He avoided any kind of dating app or website, especially Grindr. Then there was Craig, who Peter met at his first house party. They ended up making out a little too heatedly in a public place. They went somewhere more private. Everything was fine until Peter’s friend walked in on Peter mid-blowjob. He was mortified the next day. On top of that, Peter found out that Craig was the co-owner of a coffee shop popular with students and was at least a decade older than him. Apparently he showed up to college parties fairly frequently. Peter avoided the shop like the plague for the rest of the year. 

Then there was Alice, who shared an uncanny number of his interests and hobbies. She even pushed him to get involved in local politics. But he couldn’t make up for their lack of physical chemistry. Peter loved when they spent time together. But when she made a move for more, every little detail got in the way - the overripe fruity flavor of her gum, the silly accents she peppered in. He couldn’t get himself romantically invested no matter how hard he tried.

But whenever Peter was alone his thoughts went back to Mr. Stark. It happened when he was in line for the bus, when he was eating lunch, and most often when he touched himself. Peter didn’t want to still have these lingering feelings. Of course he wanted to start fresh. He wanted to show Mr. Stark that he wasn’t some clingy, lovesick kid. 

This week, he was going back home for break. May had already planned to pick him up from the airport. As they drove back home, Peter chatted with May to mask his unease. The familiar storefronts of his childhood rolled past. It looked smaller than he remembered. May ordered them Chinese with a side of sugar-coated donuts in honor of his return.

Between bites she asked if he had heard from Mr. Stark during dinner, trying for casual but obviously invested in Peter’s answer. He truthfully said that he hadn’t.

Peter went on a walk and found himself on Mr. Stark’s street. That night, he downloaded Grindr. He told himself that he wasn’t looking for anything or anyone, he just wanted to see. It wasn’t long before he saw the screen name TNT39 nearby. Roughly three miles away.

He sent a message asking if they could see each other while he was home. Only a few moments later his phone buzzed. Peter’s stomach was in knots. The notification might be totally unrelated. He couldn’t look yet, so left it face-down on his bed. He stared where the screen glowed against his sheets, chewing on a fingernail, unable to look. Peter was legally an adult and no longer his student. But there was a real possibility that Mr. Stark had politely turned him down. Months and months had passed without a word. There was no guarantee that Mr. Stark hadn’t lost interest, or, more likely, finally decided the risk was greater than the reward. Or maybe Mr. Stark couldn’t stop thinking about him either. Peter braced himself. His Grindr profile displayed one new message.

It said yes.


End file.
